#which is exactly the case but why does it read that way. and how don’t i know how to write any other way

[eye-of-yelough]

i’m gonna get back to my gortae fic i’m gonna finnish it if it kills me

*reads the first 3 paragraphs*

-_-

[runecatwrites]

Let’s talk about Warriors and Wild

This was another “weird” pairing that came out of the latest update.

You’d think that the two with no dungeon experience should each be paired with someone more experienced, right? Well, Warriors isn’t really thinking about that. He has a different motive for choosing Wild to team up with, and no, it’s not because he’s “mad” at him. The reason actually reveals a lot about both of their characters, and displays a great deal of character growth on Warriors' part specifically.

Deep dive under the cut!

Okay first off, let’s get something out of the way. Just because Warriors and Wild have no traditional dungeon experience, that doesn’t make them ill-equipped. Warriors has tons of combat experience and is demonstrably very intelligent. And Wild? Sure he didn’t have traditional dungeons in BotW, but you know what he did have? Puzzles. A TON of puzzles. That guy can do puzzles in his sleep. I highly doubt that he’s gonna have trouble with dungeon puzzles once he figures out how to approach them (which won’t take long).

All right, now that we have that cleared up, moving on!

From the very beginning, Wars holds great respect for Wild:

Because at the start of the adventure, Warriors doesn't realize just how different he is from the others. He gets put with a bunch of guys who share his name and his spirit, so of course he thinks his experience isn’t unique. They’re all just like him, right?

Okay, uh, maybe not? But they still can’t be that different, Warriors thinks. Sky is also a knight, and he acts exactly the way Warriors expects a knight to act.

He catches onto plans immediately:

And follows through flawlessly:

It’s not about authority and Sky’s ability to follow orders. It’s about the fact that Sky is on the same page. He went to military school. He has extensive training. He knows what to do and when, with barely any prompting, because he’s been taught to think the same way Warriors thinks. Warriors and Sky work together perfectly because of this:

But with Wild? Warriors is expecting the exact same thing with Wild, a fellow knight, but what he gets from the Champion is far from what he gets with Sky. This is very unexpected for Warriors. He gives what he thinks is a clear directive:

“Clear out the rest” to Warriors and Sky means “get rid of all the little guys so we can focus on the big guy.” Solid strategy. But Wild does not interpret this the same way, because he does not remember his military training and therefore any of the strategy he was taught. “Clear out the rest” just means get rid of everyone to him. And he decides to eliminate the biggest threat first. It’s important to note here that he’s not “defying orders” because his emotions are getting the better of him, or even because he thinks he shouldn't have been given orders. The way he sees it, he is following orders. Warriors said “clear out the rest.” And that’s what Wild’s helping to do. But then afterwards? Warriors is angry!

The plan? What plan? There was no plan! The goal was just to get rid of everyone! Why does it matter if Wild took out the big guy before the little guys?

It’s at this point that Wild realizes he’s done something wrong, but he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. (Any other neurodivergent folks here? If so, yeah, you know how this feels. I know I do.)

It’s clear through subsequent interactions that Wild genuinely does not understand what the problem is:

He thought he made the right move, but others don’t seem to think so. He’s already emotional, and this is just adding more fuel to the fire. He snaps, starts a fight with Four, and runs off still feeling confused.

Meanwhile, Warriors is also confused. Why didn’t Wild act the way Warriors thought he would? He’s a knight, right? Why did he do what he did, and how did he not understand that his choice of strategy was incorrect after?

And it’s not just Wild that Warriors failed to read correctly; the others are clashing with him too. Case in point, Twilight’s refusal to hang back after being injured:

In the aftermath of the battle, it’s at this point that Warriors makes a realization: he’s the one who made a mistake. He had preconceived expectations of people, and that ended up majorly backfiring on him.

Warriors knows that he can't be a good teammate - and a good leader - if he doesn't understand where his companions are coming from. Again, it's not about authority, it's about being on the same page. Ever since, he has been trying to seek better understanding. Maybe Wild doesn't feel comfortable taking orders from Warriors, and only listens to those he knows well?

But Twilight said, "No he doesn't." Huh. Okay. Well, maybe Warriors can try to get inside Wild's head? Let's try some bantering! These guys love to banter!

Oops. Fumble. That didn't go well. But hey, at least Wild seems to have figured out what he did wrong!

That's a step in the right direction! Okay, they're getting somewhere, Warriors thinks.

But Wild is really down on himself. He now realizes that he misinterpreted a directive that he should have understood. And thinks that Warriors thinks he's stupid, and hates him. (Again, where my neurodivergent peeps at? Yeah. That feeling.)

Meanwhile, things are becoming clearer to Warriors. Not only does he realize that he shouldn't have viewed his teammates through his own preconceived notions, but for the first time, he also realizes just how different his experience was from everyone else's:

He realizes he's got a LOT of learning to do. His discordance with Wild is proof of that. But Wild has never been in a dungeon either. Maybe this is their chance to connect? Warriors tries once again to get inside Wild's head. Maybe he can try to understand why Wild isn't approaching this dungeon the way Warriors would:

Aaaaand Wild froze up. Dang it. Warriors isn't getting anything. He really needs to figure out what's going wrong here so they can work together. It's for both of their benefit, and the group's benefit as a whole. They need to get on the same page so that they can not only fight together, but be good friends to each other. And when the opportunity arises to team up one-on-one, Warriors jumps at it! This is the perfect opportunity, he thinks!

But right now? Wild doesn't realize that. He thinks that Warriors is mad at him. Warriors is NOT mad at him. Warriors is trying to learn, to better himself, and to forge a connection.

And I believe that even though it's been a bumpy road, we're going to see some amazing growth between Warriors and Wild in the future.

[gtgbabie0]

Hii, I love your righting! Could you write Vi working out in her & readers shared apartment, she’s doing pushups and reader says “hold on, move your arm” and slides on the floor to be under Vi.

Then reader is like “continue” whilst Vi is grinning, she starts doing pushups again and reader keeps kissing her when she presses down. Then she goes “okay now hold it as a plank” and Vi is confused but does so and reader unexpectedly starts making out with Vi. And Vi is all flustered struggling to hold this plank but happy to make out and then after telling reader this is not an efficient way to work out and reader is all pouty like “so you’d rather I wasn’t under you?”. Lots of fluff, flirting, being flustered maybe a little tension, thank you!!

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Vi x Reader

Synopsis: {You interrupt your girlfriend’s workout routine in the best way possible} AN: Hehe love this!! Enjoyyy! ✮Masterlist is here <3

Vi had been sick all week with a horrid headache, which left her practically immobilised in bed, sleeping like a ‘sick Victorian child’—as you had ever so kindly put it—multiple times despite her protests. You would give it a couple of weeks before showing her the photos you snapped of her while she snored away.

Within those weeks she couldn’t get her gym sessions in— it would have probably killed her if she tried, okay maybe slightly dramatic, but Vi would disagree. To be completely honest she still isn’t feeling very up to par so that’s why she currently doing push-ups in your shared living room because she needs to 'keep her figure in order.'

It was quite a show really, how her tank top fits snugly against her chest— not to mention her muscles, god her muscles, the way her biceps flex and strain with each push. You couldn’t help but stare and tease, just a little.

“It’s been three days babe and you’re already struggling at twenty?” You smirk from your place where you’ve snuggled yourself up in the corner of the ‘L’ shaped couch, watching her oh so intently instead of reading your book that was sitting in your lap.

She shoots you a playful glare, pretty blue eyes narrowing slightly. The absolute cheek of you. “Yeah? You wanna come down here and give me twenty right now?”

You shake your head, sinking back into the cushions with a sheepish giggle. “No, I definitely don’t.”

“Exactly, so keep that pretty nose of yours stuffed in that dumb book.” Oh, she's done it now. You immediately, so stubbornly, stand up from the comfort of your little nook and make your way over to her with a small pout, arms crossed and everything.

Violet sits back on her haunches, grinning proudly at how easy it was for her to get under your skin— her eyes fixed on the way you purse your lips out in melodramatic annoyance.

“Now what are you doing?” She huffs in amusement.

“I decided I wanna help.”

“This doesn’t look like helping… at all.”

She was right, you wiggling yourself beneath her didn’t exactly make her want to work out— well maybe just in a different way.

“Hush— now continue.” The sass in your tone makes her scoff playfully, shaking her head as you all but stare up at her with an expectant look. Vi’s backbone was practically nonexistent when it came to you, you asked, or well in this case demanded, and she did, simple as that— so she leans over you, big hands planted firmly on the ground on either side of your head.

Vi lowers herself down slightly, elbows bending with her movement as she flashes you a smirk, canines peaking out— blue eyes gleaming. “Hey.” she chuckles. You wipe the stupidly hot grin from her lips, meeting her halfway to give her a big kiss, propped up slightly by your forearms.

Her breath catches and she lets out a stuttering sound, her arms faltering to keep her up at the sudden affection— god it was almost as if you wanted to give her a damn heart attack, those pretty lips of yours stretched out into a smug grin of your own.

“Alright, fine.” Vi was competitive, hence why you always try to cheat on game nights. That spark was lit now, there was no going back so she gladly accepted this silent challenge you’ve offered her.

With each push-up she does you give her a big, wet kiss, lips smushing together softly and sometimes not so softly— nipping at her bottom to which she groans in response, pushing her toned body down against you just a little firmer to capture those pretty breathless sounds that escape your kiss-plumed lips.

You huff, frowning. “Don’t be annoying.”

“Oh I’m being annoying?— do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” She sighs in between kisses that only seem to get greedier, all exasperated. “S’payback babe.” her push-ups, if you could even call them that at this point, getting weaker.

Vi goes to sit back but your fingers catch her hand, curling around her wrist. “Nu-uh, you gotta do your planks, lazy.” God, you sounded just like a personal trainer, stern tone, knitted brows and everything— she wouldn’t mind that actually now that she’s thinking about it, especially if the sessions went like this.

“Lazy? you’re the one just lying there, well, nothing new I guess.” That one earns her a quick swat to the shoulder and she gasps, looking down at you with faux offence written all over her beautiful face.

“S-Shut up— just do your damn plank, chicken arms.”

Violet guffaws in disbelief, reluctantly lowering herself, her arms crossing just above your head as she holds the position— the muscles in her stomach tensing up as you brush your fingertips over her tank top, pushing the fabric up to feel her abs. God, she looks so good like this, broad shoulders shadowing over you, her jawline and the shape of her neck on show. You couldn’t help but touch!

“Oh, you’re asking to be—” she looks down at you, her words unceremoniously cut off as you tug her down into a kiss, making her collapse over you with a muffled “mmfhm!!” Your tongue runs along her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth and she doesn’t hesitate to lean in closer, impossibly closer, to deepen the already eager kiss.

“You’re not good at helping in the slightest, this isn’t efficient at all.” She murmurs against your lips as the kiss tapers off into small loving pecks, still greedy.

“So you’d rather I was sitting back on the couch? because I can—” You couldn’t get up even if you tried, her body was pinned on top of yours, her hips effectively sandwiching you between her toned form and the hardwood floor.

“Nope, no. You’re coming with me baby, after workout shower.” She chuckles lowly, trailing opened-mouthed kisses along the soft curve of your jaw ever so slowly before she hauls you up and carries you off into the bathroom. Best workout ever.

[wonysugar]

wonder why i’m bitter | julie han

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. casual — chappell roan

synopsis : friends don’t act like this, you would know that better than anyone else.

pairing : non-idol!julie x fem!reader

genre : smut, angst, smutty angst, if you will! heavy on the angst though sorry.

tags : they were roommates,,, making out, marking, implied possessiveness, implied jealousy, anal rimming (heyyy), strap-on sex, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus, julie is bent ova, and YESS WHO SAID BACKSHOTS, arguing, topsub!femreader, bottomdom!julie, frequent mentions of sexuality, praise kink, cheating?? could you call this cheating,, one singular l-bomb,,, yikesss

warnings : none..? i guess apart from the obvious content warnings here (angst and smut) there’s some underlying internal homophobia themes?? but i don’t think it’s that bad tbh IDK BE WARNED JUST IN CASE

word count : 3,1k

a/n : haiii!! i’m finally posting this draft OUHH it went through so many changes, like for example THE TITLEE?? i was gonna make the title be a lyric to ‘goodluck, babe!’ by chappell roan since i originally based the fic on that but i ended up listening to casual instead and went woaahh,, this fits so much more what the hell?!? but yeahh i think i’m happy with how it turned out! :’) i hope you guys can say the sameedckem

ALSO! first time writing anything involving anal,, while yes i do talk about it often (ahem we all know,,) i was incredibly nervous in the process and this definitely made me step out of my comfort zone, hope it isn’t too apparent in this ;; but yeah, to stop rambling, thank you for reading!! i hope you like itt! :]]

“so…” julie’s friend makes a motion between the two of you with a raised eyebrow, wearing a curious smile. “what exactly are you two?” they ask. you thought about it for a few moments, theoretically, you two are roommates, friends at most. but, if anything, you’re more like a couple behind closed doors. 

you shrug, thinking nothing of it, “i guess we’re kind of like—“

“we’re just friends.” she places, wearing a polite smile at the familiar in front of her before you could even think about the rest of your sentence. when you turn to look at her, she’s avoiding your gaze, already familiar with the type of expression you’re wearing. 

it’s the face you always make when she pushes you away like this.

turning back to her friend, you nod slightly, “yeah. we’re friends.” trying your hardest not to let your dejection show through your smile. 

maybe it’s all just in your imagination, perhaps you guys were never even close to being a ‘thing’ and you were the one who thought too much into it. but alas; no matter from which angle you looked at it, the way she displayed any ounce of affection towards you would always make you overthink what you two were exactly. anything she’d do in the comfort of your own apartment with you was never close to anything she’d do in public, in front of the eyes of everyone walking by. she always acts like she barely knows you whenever she is surrounded by people, whether she knows them or not.

you think about it often.

you think about her often.

you asked yourself, do you even like her like that? well, she’s pretty chill, smart, witty and funny. she’s also beautiful, and one hell of a tease, that much is obvious, you’ve had sex with her numerous times in the past, so sexual attraction is out of the question; you already knew the answer to that. the better question probably was; does she even like you like that?

“you done with them?” says julie, referring to the pile of kitchenware you guys left from last night on the counter as she hugs you from behind and rests her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapping all around your waist and watching you. you, on the other hand, were taken by surprise by the sudden display of affection, so much so that you lost your original train of thought. as much as you knew that she liked physical touch, it always did surprise you whenever you randomly felt her skin come in contact with yours throughout the day. getting quickly accustomed to the feeling of her lips kissing your shoulder, you hummed in response, washing and scrubbing the plate with the soaped-up sponge you were holding.

“almost.” 

she whines in an exaggerated manner, “hurry uppp..” lightly tapping on your stomach and resting her head on your shoulder, before adding, “i miss you.”

you giggle, putting away the plate you were now done washing, quickly grabbing another dirty one, “i’m right here, though?”

“no like,” she left another kiss on your shoulder, “i miss you.” 

you smirked, getting progressively more and more amused by the girl’s foreign, yet familiar behavior towards you, feeling her embrace you even tighter.

“oh yeah? well in that case, i miss you too, julie.”

you knew exactly what the girl in question meant by ‘i miss you’ and you would’ve teased her further if it weren’t for how impatient she was getting, despite how cute it was. her heavily annoyed sighs giving it away, despite those also being sprinkled with a tiny bit of humor. 

“come onn, don’t play dumb with me, smartass.”

so, you pushed the oblivious act aside and obliged, setting the plate down before facing her.

your lips danced in sync with hers as you carried her to your bed. once you got there, you gently sat her down on the edge of the mattress, lips still intertwined whilst her hands glided along the curves of your body, tracing circles with the tip of her index finger on your soft skin. 

you didn’t waste any time in laying her down moments later,, your mouth now eagerly roaming her neck and collarbone and leaving kisses down along her body, successfully marking it up. listening to her quiet hums, you proceeded to slide down her sweatpants, your hands tugging on the waistband.

now left in only her panties, you allowed your fingers to glide over the damp spot in between her legs, teasing the clothed entrance and taking in all of her reactions all at once. 

looking at you through the light brown hair that fell perfectly on her face with hooded eyes and slightly upturned eyebrows, she whispered in a low, husky and raspy tone, “see, baby? see how wet i am for you?”

now, julie had this certain ability to turn even the most confident person alive on this earth into a nervous wreck.

you were, obviously, no exception from her spells. if anything, you, y/n, were a prime example.

you slowly nodded at her words, entranced, feeling yourself fall more and more at her mercy with each second that passed. that earned a smirk from her, putting her hand atop yours, before continuing, “you’re gonna be good and do something about it, right?” 

you nodded once again, this time more eager. 

“words, darling.” she whispered.

“yes,” you muttered in response, a mix of nervousness and eagerness taking over all five of your senses, “o-of course i will.”

she hummed, perfectly content with your adorable answer, before pulling you back into a hungry kiss for another long, pleasant while. that is, until she added something else between kisses, something that made you shudder.

“get the strap.” 

immediately reaching for the drawer next to your bed upon hearing those words, lips still connected to hers, you obeyed and pulled the cabinet open, quickly pulling out the phallic silicone object residing in it as well as the harness, too impatient to feel even embarrassed about the sudden action. 

it didn’t take long before the harness was tight around your hips, the brunette bent over in front of you at the edge of the bed with her panties pulled down to her thighs. you ravished in the sight; her perfect pink pussy sitting before you, slick and wet with desire, begging for you to finally please it properly, practically throbbing in anticipation. who were you to deny her of such pleasure? 

you traced your index finger along her slit, your digit comfortably nestled in between her slippery folds as it slowly teased the entrance. 

rewarded by the sweet sounds coming out of her, you wasted no more time and slowly leaned into her core, giving a long swipe of the tongue to her pussy.

“ohh shitt..” overhearing her moans, you smiled against her as you were now making out with her swollen cunt, intending to taste every drop of her slick, not wasting a single one. your lips circled around her bundle of nerves, giving it small and gentle sucks whilst one of your hands massaged her ass.

subconsciously, julie’s back arched with each movement that your tongue made inside her, her head hung low on the bed as she whimpered filthy praises, her sounds just slightly muffled from the white bedsheet she had over her mouth. 

you heard them, though. 

thank god you heard them.

after a long while of giving more than endless attention to her pussy, you felt your mouth move upwards by itself, driven by the pure desire to make her feel even better than she already was. 

your tongue quickly made its way to her ass, roaming and dancing around her rim, which immediately earned a sharp gasp from her part. you’ve never made it a habit to eat julie’s ass, but whenever you did? it was always enough to cloud your brain with pure, raw want, and it always seemed to catch her pleasantly off-guard, since you’d always do it without any warning. 

you attempted to relax her again by tracing slow circles around her hole with your muscle, before inserting it fully, which you could only assume worked, since you could hear her whines get longer and louder. “fuckk yes baby..” she shamelessly moaned, this time more audibly due to her raising her head up and looking back at you as best as she possibly could, “that’s it, such a sweet girl for me— ah..“ 

using one of your hands, you made sure to thoroughly stimulate her clit, rubbing circles around it and even going as far as to inserting two fingers inside her dripping cunt with your other hand in the process, all whilst the muscle in your mouth flicked way within her, drilling and wriggling as you hummed against her. 

after what felt like hours of you messily rimming her, hours of her pushing herself further onto your mouth, practically fucking herself on you, you figured it was finally time to give her what’d she been wanting ever since she came up behind you in the kitchen.

pulling your fingers out and standing back up, you lined up your strap-on to her aching core, pressing the head against it before slowly inserting its entire length inside of her. 

she let out a groan at the feeling of being penetrated, which progressively turned into longer and more suggestive sounds. it all sounded like music to your ears, it only made you want to please her more.

you reached for her hand, grabbing it upon contact. she squeezed yours with just as much force in return, pleasure visibly taking over her senses. it didn’t take long for you to be full on thrusting into her, either, feeling her walls clench around your fake cock as she babbled praises. 

it was a small gesture, sure, but it made you feel things you weren’t quite certain on how to label.

“such a good girl for me—“ was what she let out, a loud moan escaping her agape mouth whilst you continued pounding her, faster with each second that passed. “f-fuck y/n i love you—“

you saw her lose herself under you, you watched in… admiration? infatuation? whatever it was, you thought she looked mesmerizing, especially with how her brown long hair fell all over the place, how perfect she sounded, how perfect she looked.

how perfect she was.

the words “i love you” resonated in your head. 

“who’s eric?” you ask her, having thrown glances at her phone that was charging on the kitchen counter whilst washing a plate, the singular one you had left untouched due to being… distracted. 

you finished washing it, then turned around, now met with a surprised julie, clothed in a pair of booty shorts and a white tank top, she was fresh out of the shower, towel drying her hair. that is, until she unexpectedly heard you speak that name, her eyes immediately darting between you and the phone, greeted by that man’s contact name and picture on the latter, an incoming phone call from his part. 

“a guy?” she says back, in her usual sarcastic yet gentle and quiet tone, “thought that was obvious enough—“

jealousy and inexplicable possessiveness flooded your senses; you knew most of her friends, but, you had no idea who this ‘eric’ dude was, and that especially ate at you. why was he calling her, on a random weekday at like, 4 pm? you had checked the clock hanging on the wall to confirm the time.

“well yeah but, i don’t think i know an eric.” you stated, wary of what the girl before you was gonna say, “who is he?”

“…i just told you, some dude. i met him on campus and we just exchanged contacts after he complimented me, a while ago.” she replied, slight annoyance cracking through the facade of the joking expression she wore. she ran her dominant hand through her messy and wet hair, causing it to fall back perfectly on the side of her face and her exposed shoulders. 

she added, “sure, he makes it very clear he wants to hook up with me, but that’s all it’ll ever be i think, he’s not the type of guy you’d wanna date seriously. why do you ask—“ 

“no reason.” you cut her off, cold and dry.

she furrowed her eyebrows, the previous annoyance being more and more apparent, this time only paired with confusion. “…what?” 

“so this is completely normal for you? like, you guys hook up and call each other sometimes and you’re just casually telling me about it? what, does he take you out on dates too?” 

“what are you, my girlfriend or something?” she scoffed, bitter and defensive, gently throwing the towel on the couch in close proximity to her, “and what if he does, why’s it such a big deal to you?” 

why is it such a big deal to me?

why is it such a big deal to me?

and before you know it, you’re quickly matching her tone. “i simply don’t understand how you could tell me something so casually, especially right after we—“

“listen, let’s get this straight.” she says to you, “i know that just because you and i fuck sometimes you’re convinced that it’s gotta mean something, that we’re something, but we aren’t. it doesn’t fucking mean shit to either of us and you know that very well. it’s all in good fun; i don’t belong to you, y/n, and i never will.” 

“it’s not about that?” you walked closer to her as you justified, trying to get your point across, “i’m not saying that you belong to me julie i’m just trying to say that—“

her stare pierces right through you as she cuts you off, and you could’ve sworn you noticed her eyes being glossy. her eyebrows furrowed in anger at you, she added on, “who i date isn’t your business. we’re just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, end of discussion. don’t try to turn our friendship into something it isn’t.” 

friends?

“so now i’m the crazy one for not liking the fact that you’re talking to that dude?” you eventually yelled back. you didn’t even notice her grabbing her things as you talked, ready to head out, despite her hair still being wet from the recent shower. you, however, noticed how she took her still ringing phone and put on her favorite puffy jacket, her soft hand’s acrylic nails digging and clutching onto the mentioned cellular device as you rambled on and on, irritated beyond comprehension. 

“we’re not fucking dating y/n, it’s all casual, i.. i’m not even into girls like that—” she asserted herself, trying her absolute hardest to sound as convincing as possible. you heard it, though, you heard that little twinge of doubt and guilt in her voice. it’s almost like she, herself, didn’t believe whatever nonsense was coming out of her mouth. 

how funny was it to watch her say that all whilst having the fresh hickeys you left on her neck and collarbone not even a few hours ago?

perhaps eric will notice them, too.

perhaps with that, he’ll realize how good you treat her, how he’ll never be able to do it like you do.

how he’ll never be able to make her feel as good as you do.

“sure, you aren’t.” you scoffed at her words, before proceeding to add on, “since you swear you aren’t, how about you stop acting like you are? you know, instead of giving me shit for getting upset.” 

“sorry?—“ she laughed bitterly, those words cut deep.

let me talk, you thought, let me place a damn word.

you continued, “no, seriously! you always do this julie, you always make me feel like i’m fucking insane for seeing it the way it is, for the way i see us. you’re convinced that there’s nothing between us, that we’re just friends, yet friends don’t randomly kiss me throughout the day for whatever reason, do they? they don’t fuck me and tell me that they love me in the process, do they?” as you spoke, she avoided your gaze and walked right past you, heading straight for the front door.

that’s when you recalled a certain moment, “sure, why not, let’s say, for your sake, that completely normal friends do fuck sometimes; they don’t buy you stupid lovey-dovey bullshit on valentine’s day and drive you to the middle of nowhere to stargaze, they do not take you out at night and take every opportunity to kiss you in public whenever nobody’s looking, they don’t fucking say they love you while you’re deep inside them— i mean for fuck’s sake julie do you hear yourself??”

she stopped in her tracks in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. she hates it when you read her like a book, she hates it when you call her out on being the way she acts with you, she hates it when you stare at her like that— she fucking hates you. she fucking hates you for making her feel the way she does, for making her question everything about herself, she hates herself for thinking about you whenever she’s with him—

she let out a noise, something in between a sob and a laugh, before looking back at you with tear-filled eyes, she stared at you, up and down. her eyebrows twitching slightly, she then set her eyes on the ground and bit her lip in what seems to be frustration, frustration aimed both at you and herself.

“if i knew it was gonna be like this, i would’ve never done anything with you to begin with.” her voice was shaky.

you watched her figure as she turned the doorknob and slammed the door on you, with a loud clack. just like that, the apartment was empty, silent and once again, peaceful.

she’d be back, of course, whether she decides to sleep somewhere else and come back the next day or sneak back in here in the middle of the night on this same day, she always comes back after a fight. still, despite knowing that, you couldn’t help but feel like drowning in your own guilt, as this argument wasn’t like any other other. her pained expression still vivid in your memory and terrorizing you, you were afraid that you might never see her again after that.

that was pure dramatization, however.

the only thing that occupied the deafening silence of the room was the muffled sound of julie sniffling and being on the phone with who you assumed to be that boy, already planning to meet up. then, you could’ve sworn you heard the name “eric?” being pronounced as it progressively faded in the distance as she walked away, basically confirming your theory. 

that’s all that filled your house and your clouded mind.

that, and the sound of your pathetic sobbing.

[caxasy]

caleb x male reader, based off of the card stage oberver bc i played it and ltr smirked the entire time bc mc is soooo me

-> implied childhood friends (atp assume every caleb x male reader is a childhood friends trope tbh), mc's name is lily, caleb is #gayaf <3

“oh my god, no way!” lily’s voice exclaimed, knelt over caleb’s belongings. “you won’t believe what i just found!”

“hm? snooping doesn’t get you anywhere, lily,” you chide her, not entirely interested as you help put away his belongings.

”snooping does in this case!” she bounds over to you with a smile on her face, “look what i found!”

“a piece of paper?” your eyes watch her expectantly, “and that is significant because…”

“because it’s not just a piece of paper! it’s a love letter, without a doubt!” she points at it, “look it’s got his favorite stickers plastered all around it!” she points to the little figures. an airplane, apples, oranges, and even some cute animal stickers.

“did you open it?” you ask, not out of curiosity, but more so in a warning way.

she shakes her head, “of course i wouldn’t actually read a love letter to caleb-oppa, that’s so weird! but, look at the evidence, it’s all pointing towards a love letter! it was even stuffed in his planner, the one written with all his assignments, which means he kept it there because it was something of utmost importance to him! what else would it be besides a love letter!” her rambling continued on as she followed you around his room. it seems she had given up cleaning and organizing in favor of trying to convince that what she had found was truly groundbreaking.

“hm, maybe it’s all those coupons he kept from you that you wrote when you two were kids,” you muse, not putting it past caleb to keep things like that. no, he definitely did, “it probably is, honestly. you know how he is and how he loves holding you to your word like that,”

she pouts, shaking her head, “he’s already used up all the ones i’ve given him…i think, or at least, that’s what it feels like,” she murmurs the last part of the sentence in a dejected tone, looking tired at the memory, “i swear he’s used countless coupons in the past couple months, just for stupid stuff too!”

“you’re the one that wrote them,” you comment, ruffling her hair to see her expression screw up in even more annoyance. “and if it isn’t coupons, then i have no clue what it is…or why we should even care,” you try subtly reminding her that caleb’s love life, if it was even that, isn’t necessarily your guys’ business.

“you don’t care? what if someone steals caleb from us? he’s already graduating — learning that he’s getting into a committed relationship just means less time for us!” she reasons and you almost chuckle at her obviously, very serious concerns.

“who’s stealing who exactly?”

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

lily nearly squeaked before she hurriedly shuffledso that your taller figure was blocking her body from caleb’s view, hiding what she was doing, quite literally, behind your back.

“nothing, lily just has a raging suspicion-”

the girl had immediately covered your mouth with her hand, standing on her tippy toes to do so. you tilted your head in confusion, widening your eyes at her as if silently saying “what gives?” but she just shushed you with her finger to her lips.

“nothing, i was just saying…how messy your room is! and how you have so much stuff! like, how are you even going to fit this all in one suitcase?” she starts rambling, a habit that she has when she lies, but caleb doesn’t press on further. instead, he opts to wave his hand at her dismissively.

“i can sort through the most of it by myself,” he says in a matter-a-fact tone.

“oh, so you just invited us here days earlier from your actual graduation to show off then?” you tease, looking around at his room, “i mean, look at all the photos on your desk of the friends you’ve made, its cute how much of a social butterfly you are, caleb,”

he looks at the stray photostrips and pictures he has on his desk, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, “well, those photobooths always give extras, so i can’t just not take them,”

”it’s good to see you were well acquainted, they all look so friendly,” you say, a smile on your face as your eyes trace over the photographs.

your words seem to snap lily out of her stupor as she rushes forward and begins observing the photo, scanning all of the faces in the pictures.

“wait, tell us about all of them! i want to know more!” her enthusiasm seems off-putting to both you and caleb, but the latter doesn’t say anything and decides to appease her. he lists off of a lot of names, noting their relationship to him with simple words like “classmate” or “study-buddy”.

“why didn’t you have any girl friends? girl, space, friends?” now this made caleb falter slightly, confusion written across his face.

”uhm, i don’t know? they just weren’t in my social circle like that,” he says it casually, as if it’s really not all that important. but to lily, and her mission in proving that caleb has a secret, hidden girlfriend, it’s of all the importance.

“you’re such a liar! all the girls in highschool would woo over you, you mean to tell me they didn’t even try being your friend in college?” she scoffed at the idea, showing how unbelievably a bad liar caleb was being. but he was telling the truth.

“i’m not interested in girls anyway!” he exclaims in defense of himself, eyes flickering to you in realization of what he said before he corrected it, “er- i mean! getting to know girls like that! ugh, pip-squeak! you and your silly questions are really making my mind melt!” his gaze looked at your reaction for a split second, but he snapped his head away from your eyes when they made eye contact with his. the reaction made you quirk your brow up in intrigue.

meanwhile, lily just giggles behind her hand, enjoying the way her interrogation is playing out, “hm, your reaction says otherwise! i think maybe you have a secret you’re not telling me and oppa,” hearing yourself be dragged into the conversation, you lazily look over at the two. “i’ll get it out of you eventually, dummy caleb!”

“why do you even care that much? weirdo…” caleb murmurs, walking away from her and to get some of his things off of his bed, which was scattered with a bunch of belongings.

he reaches for his planner, spraying the pages open in fluidity. he repeated it a couple of more times before dropping it onto the bed and looking through the other stuff in front of him.

if you hadn’t known him better, you would think he was just looking for something underneath all of his junk. but you and lily could see it; the hint of franticness and panic in his movements. without even seeing his face, he seemed to be more frenzied than a couple seconds earlier.

“uhm, are you okay, caleb?” you ask, walking over and seeing his face, eyebrows pinched together in worry.

“i’m, uh, fine. just looking for something,” he explains in a rush, “you guys haven’t touch the things on my bed, yet, right?”

you shake your head, speaking for yourself before looking over at lily, who you know for a fact did. that’s where she got that “love letter” from anyway, that planner that caleb just flipped through about 10 times.

“nope, not yet,” you deadpan at her lie, but caleb seems to believe her. he runs his hand through his hair before shaking his head.

“nevermind, i’ll look for it later,” he turns around to face you properly, taking your wrist in his hand and pulling you with him, “let’s head out for some fresh air, i have to do some shopping for dinner,”

you and lily share a look of confusion, wondering what got caleb all jumpy. hurriedly, you grab onto her wrist as well, caleb now dragging the two of you out of his dorm room and onto the streets of skyhaven.

when you arrive at the supermarket, lily glues herself to your side to continue gossipping about the supposed love letter she found, “see? he wouldn’t act that way unless it was a love letter! i kind of want to read it now,” there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, but you flick her forehead in disapproval.

”why don’t you just ask him, lily?”

“but there’s no fun in that! i want to hear him say it,” she whines, punching your shoulder, right before holding your arm close to her body. the two of you walk in sync with each other, as she pressed her cheek to your sleeve. “it’s interesting to think about caleb getting a girlfriend, isn’t it?”

your face makes an expression she can’t read, “not really, he’s charming and like you said before, he’d always get attention in highschool,”

“yeah, but highschool isn’t even serious,” she waves her hand, eyes rolling, “didn’t people confess to you all the time too? and look where you’re at now! still single!” she sticks her tongue out at you, teasing you.

“haha,” your mocking laughter makes her giggles even louder, “don’t speak as if you know everything either, lily, you graduated from highschool, like, last year,”

“i know enough,” she says with finality, “i know that caleb was super worried about that letter and he was super flustered explaining his girl-friend situation earlier. he’s probably thinking of her right now,” she sighs, dreamily almost, as if she’s envisioning caleb and his secret relationship. “one of you needed a girlfriend sooner or later, i’m kind of glad it’s caleb! means that he can stop hogging you all to himself, finally some lily and [name] time together!”

“nobody hogs anybody,” you try to reason, but she just rolls her eyes and pouts, “plus, i’d be happy for him too, but you’re beyond excited,” you laugh, finding her investigation equally odd and endearing.

“what are you two talking about over there? stop making me look like a guy that’s here all by myself,” caleb halts in his step, waiting for you two to catch up before he grabs your hand, “c’mon, hyung, i need help picking what meat we should have for dinner tonight,”

“hey! i was just talking to him!” lily cries out, following after you as caleb tugs you away.

“yeah, and you’ve been talking to him for the entire day — my turn, pip-squeak,” he says, tone light and not that serious, but his expression doesn’t have a hint of a joke being told. you’d call it a warning glare, but it wasn’t that hostile…right?

“ugh, just like i said, hogging,” lily comments to herself, busying herself in looking at the snack and chip section. “i’ll be waiting here!”

”that wasn’t very kind, caleb,” you chide, once again playing peace maker between the two. he just shakes his head, grip on your wrist only tightening.

“you guys are only here for a couple of days before i have to be sent off to that program, even farther away from home than skyhaven. you two spent the entire day yesterday and today together. meanwhile, i haven’t even been able to spend more than 10 minutes with you — alone,” caleb’s ramblings make you affectionately ruffle his hair, a sad smile on your face.

“okay, well, we’re here together now so it’s okay. don’t be so mean to lily next time, though,”

he rolls his eyes at the mention to mind his manners again, “she knows what she’s doing and she always gets away with it because you let her!”

“careful how you speak, one would think you dislike her — which we both know is the opposite. you adore lily,” you say as if reminding him, but he just groans.

“only don’t like her when she takes away my time from you,” he says, leaning more into your figure. the height difference between you two wasn’t much, the shoes you were wearing making you only a couple of centimeters taller than him. but when he was hunched over, into your frame, it made him look shorter and smaller than he actually was.

“oh, you big baby,” you run your hand through his dark hair, tugging at the roots at the base of his neck, “c’mon, tell me what you want to eat and i’ll choose the best ones,” you coax him, making him unbury his head from your neck and look at the selection.

“pork belly,” he says simply, before turning his head back into your skin, breathing you in.

“oooh, you have a grill in your dorm? we can have samgyeopsal,” it was almost mouth watering to think about.

“hm, we will have to use the shared kitchen but no one would mind, so it’s fine,” he leans more of his weight on you, making you chuckle slightly at his clingy behavior, “it sounds yummy. promise to grill my meat for me?” he asks gently, making you smile at his childish request.

“of course i will. should we leave lily to fend for herself then?”

he laughs as if the joke you told was too funny, but that’s only because he knows that lily would never grill her own meat, relying on one of you two to do it for her, “yeah, just wait to see how that’ll play out,”

“probably another fight between the two of you,”

“probably,” caleb hums, watching you with a dreamy smile on his face.

he’s been trying to keep his need to be near you to a minimum, but he’s feeling a bit too angsty to hold back. ever since you’ve arrive, as he told you earlier, he’s barely had any alone time with you. he thought that the three of you were going to sleep in his dorm room for the entire stay until his graduation day, but the academy wouldn’t let him.

so, an unfortunate solution was you and lily rooming together in a hotel that was a couple of blocks down. and since the school was being strict on curfews and staying out anywhere that wasn’t your own dorm, he wasn’t able to stay the nights with you guys. he assumes the academy is just paranoid of the big graduation ceremony being ruined, but it just annoyed him to no end.

he was only able to spend, what felt like, passing moments with you. so he was really trying to soak in the alone time you two would get now, even if it was in the supermarket.

it didn’t help that he couldn’t find one of his most prized possessions earlier. the thing that was hidden in his planner, that he strategically kept there so he always knew where it was. his fingers twitched in anxiety at the thought of it being currently missing. he swallowed harshly, reminding himself to turn his room upside down until he found it. he wouldn’t leave until it was back with him, safe.

the letter he thought was missing when it was currently sitting in lily’s purse that was slung over her shoulder.

only because it was a letter you had written for him to only open once he graduated from college. what was written inside, he had no idea. and he had been so patient — for years since you had handed it to him — to not open it and take a peak at it. but now that it was time for him to properly unravel and read it, it goes missing.

it was enough to make worry and anxiety creep into his mind every couple of seconds. he had to find that letter. it was the one thing that kept pushing him along on nights where the assignments became too much, when the exams were so stressful. it was his grounding anchor to keep going until he was finished. he thought of it as his ultimate reward coming from you.

he needed that letter.

... should i make a pt 2 ...

[demontobee]

Good Omens is queering TV/storytelling - part 1: GAZE

I would argue that part of why Good Omens is so refreshingly queer is because it does not cater to the male gaze (which centers around the preferences - aesthetic, romantic, sexual, visual, logical, emotional, political ... - of mainly white men in positions of power):

no oversexualization of groups or types of people: Women or characters that could be read as female presenting are not overly sexualized. In fact, some of them are shown to be grimy, slimy and not sexual at all. All of them are real characters and not just cardboard-cutout on-screen versions of male misogynistic fantasies. They portray real people with real people problems. They are human, or exempt from our categories when portraying angels or demons. There are no overly sexualized bodies in general (as has so far also often been the case with young gay men, PoC, etc.), no fetishization of power imbalances, and not exclusively youthful depiction of love and desire.

sex or sexual behavior is not shown directly (yet): All imagery and symbolism of sex and sexuality is used not to entice the audience but is very intimately played out between characters, which makes it almost uncomfortable to watch (e.g., Aziraphale being tempted to eat meat, Crowley watching Aziraphale eat, the whole gun imagery).

flaunting heteronormativity: Throughout GO but especially GO2, there is very little depiction of heterosexual/romantic couples; most couples are very diverse and no one is making a fuss about it. There is no fetishization of bodies or identities. Just people (and angels and demons) being their beautiful selves (or trying to).

age: Even though Neil Gaiman explained that Crowley and Aziraphale are middle-aged because the actors are, I think it is also queering the idea of romance, love and desire existing mainly within youthful contexts. Male gaze has taught us that young people falling and being in love is what we have to want to see, and any depiction of love that involves people being not exactly young anymore is either part of a fetishized power imbalance (often with an older dude using his power to prey on younger folx) or presents us with marital problems, loss of desire, etc. – all with undertones of decay and patronizing sympathy. Here, however, we get a beautifully crafted, slow-burn, and somehow super realistic love story that centers around beings older than time and presenting as humans in their 50s figuring out how to deal with love. It makes them both innocent and experienced, in a way that is refreshing and heartbreaking and unusual and real.

does not (exclusively) center around romantic/sexual love: I don’t know if this is a gaze point exactly but I feel like male gaze and resulting expectations of what a love story should look like are heavily responsible for our preoccupation with romantic/sexual love in fiction – the “boy gets girl” type of story. And even though, technically, GO seems to focus on a romantic love story in the end, it is also possible to read this relationship but also the whole show as centering around a kind of love that goes beyond the narrow confines of our conditioned boxed-in thinking. It seems to depict a love of humanity and the world and the universe and just the ineffability of existence as a whole.

disability as beautiful and innate to existence: Disability is represented amongst angels by the extremely cool Saraqael and by diversely disabled unnamed angels in the Job minisode. Representation of disability is obviously super important in its own right, but is also queers what we perceive as aesthetically and ontologically "normal". Male gaze teaches us that youth and (physical and mental) health are the desirable standard and everything else is to be seen as a deviance, a mistake. By including disability among the angels, beings that have existed before time and space, the show clearly states that disability is a beautiful and innate part of existence.

gender is optional/obsolete: Characters like Crowley, Muriel and others really undermine the (visual and aesthetic) boundaries of gender and the black-and-white thinking about gender that informs male gaze. Characters cannot be identfied simply as (binary) men or women anymore just by looking at them or by interpreting their personalities or behaviors. Most characters in GO, and especially the more genderqueer ones, display a balance of feminine and masculine traits as well as indiosyncracies that dissolve the gender binary.

Feel free to add your own thoughts on this in the comments or tags!

[okasuka]

alright guys back to the batfam

Title: A Sight for Sore Eyes

The warm glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows over Bruce’s study, illuminating the neat stacks of reports and scattered case files. You stood beside him, arms crossed, watching as he held the offending object between his fingers—a pair of reading glasses. His jaw was set tight, lips pressed together in that familiar brooding way.

“I don’t need them,” Bruce grumbled, staring at the glasses as though they had personally offended him.

“You do,” you countered, a teasing lilt in your voice. “And you’ll look handsome with them.”

His brow furrowed, clearly not convinced. “I don’t—”

“Bruce,” you cut in, stepping closer. “Just put them on.”

With a sigh that carried the weight of Gotham itself, he finally slid them on. The frames settled against the bridge of his nose, and he blinked a few times before focusing back on the papers in front of him.

You tilted your head, studying him with a grin. “See? Dashing. Distinguished. Very ‘Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Even at Fifty-One.’”

Bruce huffed but didn’t argue, which you took as a win.

Just then, the door swung open, and Dick strolled in, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a water bottle in hand. He took one look at Bruce and smirked. “Well, well, look at you. Rocking the glasses, B.”

You turned to Dick with a grin. “Be honest—how does he look?”

Dick shrugged. “Like a fine, upstanding citizen of Gotham.”

Bruce sighed. “Thank you, Dick.”

But before he could get too comfortable, another voice cut in. “He looks old.”

Damian entered the room, arms crossed, staring at Bruce like he had personally betrayed the family name. His expression was completely deadpan, which made it even funnier.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose—without removing his glasses—while Dick coughed to cover a laugh. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing, clutching your stomach.

“Damian,” Bruce grumbled, glaring over the rim of his lenses.

“What? I am merely stating the obvious,” Damian said, completely unapologetic.

You wiped away a tear, still laughing. “Oh, Bruce, you really are a sight for sore eyes.”

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh, but the small twitch of his lips gave him away. Even as he grumbled about family betrayal, you knew he wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world.

Title: A Sight for Sore Eyes (Pt. 2)

You waved a hand, shooing both Bruce and Dick toward the door. “Alright, you two, out. I need a moment alone with my husband.”

Bruce gave you a suspicious look, but you simply smiled sweetly at him before reaching for the door.

“Wait, what—” Dick started, but you cut him off by pushing him over the threshold.

“Out.”

Dick barely had time to turn around before you shut the door behind him, twisting the lock with a soft click.

A beat of silence.

Then, Dick turned to find Jason leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “What’s going on?” Jason asked, eyebrow raised.

Dick smirked. “They’re definitely gonna fuck. I just heard the door lock.”

Jason scoffed, shaking his head. “Disgusting. He’s, like, ancient.”

Tim, who had been scrolling on his phone a few feet away, looked up with a tired sigh. “Take Damian out for food,” he said flatly.

Damian, who had just entered the hallway, frowned. “Why?”

Tim locked eyes with him. “Because if you don’t, you’re going to hear things you really don’t want to hear.”

Damian’s expression soured instantly. “Tt.” He turned on his heel, already heading toward the stairs. “Fine. But I’m choosing the restaurant.”

Jason sighed but followed after him. “As long as it’s not that overpriced organic place again—”

The voices faded as they walked away, leaving Tim and Dick standing in silence.

Dick took a sip from his water bottle, then side-eyed Tim. “You coming?”

Tim huffed, tucking his phone in his pocket. “Hell yes.”

Inside the study, Bruce had already fallen back into brooding mode, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. “What exactly was that about?”

You leaned against the locked door, smiling lazily. “You’re cute when you sulk, you know that?”

Bruce grumbled something under his breath, shifting slightly in his chair as you made your way toward him.

Slowly, deliberately, you placed a hand on the desk, then leaned in close, just enough that your lips hovered near his jaw. “Mmm,” you hummed, voice soft and teasing, “I think the glasses make you look sexy.”

Bruce exhaled sharply, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against the armrest. “They make me look old.”

You laughed, your breath ghosting against his skin. “No, love,” you murmured, brushing your lips just near the corner of his mouth but not quite kissing him. “They make you look mature. Refined. Powerful.”

Bruce’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed. His hands flexed, as if he were debating whether or not to reach for you.

You leaned in just a little closer, lips barely brushing against his. “Admit it,” you whispered. “You love it when I stroke your ego.”

Bruce finally moved then, large hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his lap with that effortless strength of his. “You,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “are insufferable.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his dark hair. “And yet, you love me.”

Bruce’s lips finally captured yours in a slow, deep kiss, and you knew you had won.

Bruce pulled away, his breathing just a little heavier than before. His grip on your waist remained firm, but he was clearly fighting for composure, his jaw tightening as he stared at you through those new glasses.

You smirked. “What’s wrong, Mr. Wayne?” you teased, tilting your head. “Getting flustered?”

His brows furrowed. “No.”

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming as you trailed your fingers down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his shirt. Bruce’s grip on you twitched slightly, but he didn’t stop you—at least, not yet.

Slowly, deliberately, your hand moved lower.

Bruce exhaled sharply, and just before your fingers dipped too far, his hand caught yours in a firm grip. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, low, like he was using every ounce of willpower he had.

You pouted, your free hand ghosting over his tie. “Don’t what?”

Bruce squeezed your hand just enough to still it, grumbling, “You know what.”

Your smirk grew. “Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you want to.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you swore you saw that dangerous glint—the one he got before completely losing his self-control. But instead of giving in, he released a slow, measured breath, schooling his expression back into one of restraint.

“I’m not letting you seduce me in my study,” he muttered, voice tight.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Says the man still holding me in his lap.”

Bruce grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, his grip tightening on your hand like he was debating if he should toss you out of the room or give in completely.

You grinned. You loved making Batman lose his composure.

Bruce exhaled through his nose, his grip still firm on your wandering hand, but you could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, his fingers flexing against your waist, like he was trying to convince himself to let go—but he wasn’t pushing you away either.

You leaned in again, letting your lips brush over his jaw, teasingly slow, before trailing up to the corner of his mouth. “You’re holding back,” you murmured against his skin, voice dripping with amusement.

Bruce let out a low grumble, but before he could respond, you shifted in his lap and kissed him—soft at first, just a press of lips, testing, coaxing. But then you deepened it, sliding your free hand into his hair, tugging lightly, and that was all it took.

Bruce inhaled sharply through his nose and finally gave in. His grip on your waist tightened as he kissed you back, no longer restrained. His mouth was hot, firm, demanding as he pulled you closer, swallowing your little gasp as his tongue slid against yours.

You moaned softly, tilting your head to let him deepen the kiss. His hands roamed now, large and possessive, one slipping up your back while the other gripped your thigh. You could feel the heat of him through his shirt, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Bruce kissed you like he was claiming you, like he was making up for lost time. His tongue brushed against yours again, slow and thorough, sending a shiver down your spine. He tasted like coffee and something distinctly him, something you could never quite describe but always craved.

You broke away just enough to catch your breath, lips brushing his as you whispered, “See? The glasses aren’t so bad.”

Bruce let out a low, husky chuckle, his thumb brushing over your hip. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned, dragging your fingers down his chest. “And yet, you’re still kissing me.”

Bruce smirked—just a little—before pulling you back in, his mouth capturing yours again in a deep, heated kiss that left no room for argument.

Bruce pulled back first this time, his hands still resting on your hips. His breathing was slow, measured, like he was grounding himself, but there was something softer in his expression now—something warm beneath all that brooding.

Without a word, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, worn leather scrapbook. He hesitated for a moment before opening it and tilting it toward you.

Your eyes widened slightly. “What’s this?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Something I’ve been putting together.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. It was filled with photos of the family—some candid, some posed, but all of them precious. There were old ones of Dick as a kid, grinning wildly with his arm slung around a very annoyed young Jason. A few of Tim buried in case files, looking exhausted but determined. And then—your heart swelled—a series of pictures of Damian, from when he was younger to now.

And there, tucked between the pages, were little drawings—childish scribbles of the family, unmistakably Damian’s. One had a scowling stick-figure Batman with a tiny Robin beside him, labeled in a messy scrawl: Father & Me. Another had the whole family, complete with a grumpy Red Hood and a tiny, smug Bat-Cow in the corner.

You traced your fingers over the drawings, your heart aching in the best way. “Bruce,” you murmured, looking up at him. “This is…” You couldn’t even find the words.

Bruce simply watched you, his gaze unreadable but intense.

You smiled softly and leaned in, kissing him again—slow, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t say out loud. When you pulled away, Bruce’s hand slid up your back, keeping you close for just a second longer.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

Bruce hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before finally letting you go.

You gave him one last affectionate look before slipping out of the study.

Down the hall, Jason and Tim were leaning against the railing, clearly waiting for you.

Jason arched a brow as you approached. “Took you long enough.”

Tim adjusted his sleeves, eyes sharp with curiosity. “So. You and Bruce. In a locked room. For an extended period of time.”

Jason smirked. “Uh-huh. And when you came out, you looked very satisfied.”

You tilted your head innocently. “Did I?”

Jason scoffed. “Oh, don’t play dumb.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “What exactly happened in there?”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, you know… just spent some quality time together.”

Jason snorted. “That’s vague as hell.”

Tim nodded. “Suspiciously vague.”

You grinned, deliberately keeping them in suspense. “Let’s just say…” You let the words drag out, enjoying their impatient stares. “It was… intimate.”

Jason groaned. “That makes it worse.”

Tim sighed. “So you did—”

You held up a finger. “Did what?”

Jason gave you a deadpan look. “Oh my god. Just tell us.”

You finally relented, laughing. “We kissed, we talked, we looked at something sentimental.”

Tim squinted. “That’s it?”

You smirked. “That’s all I’m telling you.”

Jason threw his hands up. “Unbelievable.”

Tim shook his head. “You enjoy messing with us too much.”

You beamed. “I really do.”

Jason groaned, running a hand down his face. “You are the worst.”

You grinned. “That’s funny. Bruce was just saying how much he loves me.”

Jason fake gagged. “Ugh. Gross.”

Tim sighed. “Okay, so what was the sentimental thing?”

Your expression softened slightly as you leaned against the railing beside them. “Bruce showed me this little scrapbook he’s been putting together.”

Tim blinked. “Scrapbook?”

Jason frowned. “Bruce scrapbooking?”

You nodded. “It’s got pictures of all of you. Some old, some recent. There’s even Damian’s little drawings in there.”

Jason and Tim exchanged a look.

Jason scoffed. “Okay, now I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not!” You laughed. “I swear, it’s real.”

Tim crossed his arms. “Bruce sentimental? He barely even says ‘good job’ without making it sound like an insult.”

You smirked. “I think he’s getting soft in his old age.”

Jason snorted. “Tell that to the criminals getting their faces caved in by him right now.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? He’s still Batman, but he’s also… Bruce. And Bruce loves you guys.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Whatever.”

Tim tapped his chin. “So… how does Damian feel about his drawings being in there?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know.” You grinned. “Bruce keeps them tucked away in the pages, like a little secret.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s gonna be funny when he finds out.”

Tim smirked. “I give it two weeks before Damian storms into the Batcave demanding an explanation.”

You chuckled. “Maybe, but you know he’d secretly love it.”

Jason shook his head. “Man… Bruce. Scrapbooking. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Tim adjusted his watch. “Next thing you know, he’ll be knitting us sweaters.”

You gasped dramatically. “Imagine the ‘World’s Okayest Son’ sweater he’d make for Jason.”

Jason gave you an unimpressed look. “You’re so lucky you’re family.”

Tim snickered, then checked the time. “Speaking of family, we should probably go check on Damian. He’s been quiet for too long.”

Jason stretched. “Yeah, last time that happened, he was trying to train Bat-Cow to do attack commands.”

You grinned. “Go. Make sure he hasn’t declared himself the new head of Wayne Enterprises.”

Jason and Tim started to walk off, but Jason shot you one last glance over his shoulder. “For the record, we know you two did more than just kiss.”

You smirked. “Believe what you want.”

Tim shook his head. “We should start a betting pool.”

Jason smirked. “Oh, I love that idea.”

You laughed, watching them go before shaking your head fondly.

Wayne Manor was never boring.

Later that evening, after Tim had wandered off to check on Damian, you found Jason alone in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee.

You strolled in casually, hopping onto the counter beside him. “So… your birthday’s coming up.”

Jason raised a brow over the rim of his cup. “And?”

“And I wanna know what you want.”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Alright… how about this—I get you an AR-15.”

Jason nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”

You smirked. “But it only uses rubber bullets.”

Jason squinted at you, considering. “So… I get the fun of an AR, but without Bruce whining about me using real rounds?”

“Exactly.”

Jason set his cup down, rubbing his chin. “Huh. Y’know what? Fine. I’ll take it.”

You grinned. “Knew you’d like that.” Then, before he could react, you leaned over and kissed his temple.

Jason groaned. “Ugh, come on—I’m a grown man.”

You chuckled. “And yet, you’re still grumbling just like Bruce.”

Jason scowled. “That is so uncalled for.”

You smirked. “Is it, though?”

Jason sighed dramatically. “I should’ve just asked for cash.”

You patted his shoulder. “Too late now. Your AR-15 with rubber bullets is already in the works.”

Jason grumbled under his breath, but you caught the small, amused smirk on his face.

Yeah. He was definitely Bruce’s kid.

Two weeks later…

Jason had been suspicious.

You and Bruce conveniently had to fly out to London for a Wayne Enterprises meeting. Tim was suddenly swamped with some “urgent” business at WE as well. Dick had a GCPD case keeping him busy, and even Damian had some League-related training that just happened to fall on the same day.

All on Jason’s birthday.

He acted like he didn’t care, brushing it off with a whatever when you called him that morning. But after patrol, he was grumpier than usual, dragging himself back into the Batcave and peeling off his armor with a sigh.

“Some birthday,” he muttered.

Then—

“SURPRISE!”

The cave erupted with cheers, red and black balloons falling from above, and a giant “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JASON” banner stretching across the cave.

Jason froze, wide-eyed. The whole family was there—Dick, Tim, Damian, Alfred, and even Cass and Steph. And standing at the front, definitely not in London, were you and Bruce.

Jason blinked. “What the hell—?”

You grinned. “Did you really think we’d forget your birthday?”

Jason scoffed. “You literally told me you were in London.”

Bruce stepped forward, arms crossed. “A necessary deception.”

“Deception my ass.” Jason ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

Then, a moment later, a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright. You got me.”

Bruce exhaled, stepping closer. “Happy birthday, son.”

Jason blinked again, caught off guard. Bruce reached out, wrapping him in a firm hug.

“I’m proud of you,” Bruce murmured.

Jason swallowed, frozen for a moment before he patted Bruce’s back awkwardly. “…Thanks, old man.”

You grinned, watching the rare sight of Jason letting himself be soft.

Then, Steph clapped her hands. “Alright, cake time before Jason starts pretending he doesn’t have feelings again.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but the sight of the cake made him pause.

It was shaped like his Red Hood helmet, perfectly detailed, with “Happy Birthday, Jaybird” written at the bottom.

Jason let out a breathless chuckle. “Damn. That’s actually kinda cool.”

Dick grinned. “Cut it before Damian stabs it.”

Damian scowled. “I wouldn’t stab it.”

Everyone stared at him.

“…Probably.”

Jason snorted, taking the knife and cutting the first slice.

As everyone grabbed their share, Jason sat down, opening his gifts one by one.

From Dick: A new leather jacket, shockingly in good taste.

From Tim: A high-end coffee maker, because “you drink the most disgusting sludge, Jason.”

From Damian: A custom-forged dagger (of course).

From Cass and Steph: A collection of classic action movies, because “you need culture.”

From Alfred: A handwritten letter and a set of engraved silver cufflinks.

From you and Bruce? The AR-15 with rubber bullets.

Jason let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head as he held up the rifle. “You actually got it.”

You grinned. “Told you.”

Jason looked around, at the gifts, the cake, and—most importantly—his family.

For once, he didn’t feel out of place.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Uh… thanks. For all this.”

You smiled softly. “Of course, Jay.”

Jason huffed. “You guys are still annoying.”

Dick threw an arm around him. “Awww, we love you too, buddy.”

Jason groaned as everyone laughed, but this time, there was no real bite to it.

Because for once—on his birthday—he was happy.

The Night of the Argument:

The tension between Y/N and Bruce had been building for days, but tonight, it finally erupted. It was late, just after Jason’s party, and the pent-up emotions had reached a boiling point. Bruce had been cold and distant all evening, barely acknowledging Y/N, even as they tried to make small talk. They could feel the weight of his silence, and it was unbearable.

Y/N had tried to push through, tried to ignore the distance between them, but it was impossible. She reached out to him after they both came back to the manor, wanting to bridge the gap, wanting to hold him close, to make him see her, to show him she was still there, despite everything.

She approached him in the dimly lit hallway, her voice soft but laced with hurt. “Bruce, can we talk?”

Bruce didn’t even look at her, his back still turned. “I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Bruce—” Y/N began, frustration bubbling up, but she tried to keep her voice steady. “What’s going on? You’ve been like this for days. You can’t just ignore me.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, the sharpness in his tone cutting through the air.

Y/N felt the sting of those words. “What do you mean, I wouldn’t understand? Bruce, I’m right here. I always try to be there for you, and this… this coldness is killing me. Why won’t you just let me in?”

Her voice cracked, but she fought to hold herself together. She could see him stiffen, his jaw tightening, but still, he wouldn’t turn around.

“Maybe it’s easier this way,” Bruce muttered, his voice rough. “You’re better off not getting involved.”

That was the breaking point. Y/N stepped forward, her emotions overflowing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she shouted, stepping into his line of sight now. “I’ve been nothing but supportive, and all I get is pushed away. I deserve better than this!”

Bruce turned to face her then, his eyes cold, his face tight. “You don’t need to be part of this. This life… it’s not for you.”

The words hit harder than she ever expected. She stood there, stunned for a moment, but then the tears came, hot and fast. “Don’t you dare say that! I choose this life with you, Bruce. I’ve chosen you. But if this is how it’s going to be—if I’m just going to keep getting pushed aside—then maybe I’m better off without it.”

She took a step back, but Bruce’s face twisted with frustration. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t keep pretending it’s fine when it’s not. If you’re just going to shut me out, maybe I should leave.”

Bruce’s hand shot out in reflex, but he didn’t grab her. Instead, he shoved her back, just a little too forcefully. Y/N stumbled back in surprise, the pain of his action matching the pain in her chest. She blinked back her tears, eyes wide, but she refused to let him see how deeply his rejection hurt.

“I said I don’t need you involved in this!” Bruce’s voice was harsh now, his anger rising.

Y/N’s heart shattered. “Then maybe you don’t need me at all,” she choked out.

Without another word, she turned and walked off, retreating to her own room. Bruce didn’t stop her. He didn’t try to apologize, or even chase after her. The door slammed shut between them, and in the silence that followed, both of them felt a weight pressing down on their hearts.

The Morning After:

The next morning, Y/N woke up early, but sleep hadn’t brought relief. In fact, it had only amplified her feelings. She was hurt, angry, and feeling more isolated than ever. As she dressed, she thought about how Bruce had shut her out—again—and she knew she had to keep her distance.

When she walked into the kitchen, her face was set in a hard line, and she was silent. The weight of the night before was still there, lingering in her chest. Damian, Tim, and the others could all tell something was wrong. Y/N’s sharpness was out of character, and when she accidentally snapped at Damian over something trivial, it shocked everyone.

“Damian, can you just—ugh! Don’t you get it? Just leave me alone!” Y/N’s voice cut through the room, making Damian freeze. Tim looked over at him, his eyes wide in confusion.

“What the hell’s going on with her?” Tim muttered to Jason, who was now looking at the scene, eyes narrowed.

“I think it’s Bruce,” Jason said, frowning. “She’s been off since last night.”

Damian, usually quick to keep things under control, stood there in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Y/N had never acted like this. She wasn’t the type to explode over something small, but now, it was like the weight of everything had come crashing down on her all at once.

She left the kitchen in a hurry, and it didn’t take long for the kids to piece it together. They had seen the coldness between Bruce and Y/N, the way Bruce had been pushing her away, and now it was clear the emotional distance was taking its toll.

Damian was the first to take charge. “We need to get Bruce to apologize,” he said, looking at Tim and Jason with determination. “He’s the reason she’s like this.”

Bruce was found in the study, trying to bury himself in paperwork, as if it could drown out the guilt that was slowly eating away at him.

“Dad,” Jason started, his voice firm. “You need to go apologize to Y/N. Now.”

Bruce looked up, his eyes hard. “I’ve already tried. She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You’ve pushed her too far,” Tim added, crossing his arms. “You’re going to lose her if you don’t fix this.”

Damian stepped forward, his usual composure gone. “You need to make this right. Now.”

Bruce’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t know how it had gotten this bad, but he knew they were right. He had pushed her too far.

The Apology:

Bruce stood outside Y/N’s door, his heart racing. He had never felt this lost, this uncertain. But he knew he had to make it right. Slowly, he knocked, waiting for the quiet shuffle of footsteps on the other side.

When the door cracked open, Y/N didn’t look at him, her eyes cold. But he couldn’t let that stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, his voice low and full of regret. “I was wrong. I pushed you away when you never deserved it. I… I don’t know what I was thinking. Please forgive me.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her anger was still there, but the hurt was overwhelming. She crossed the room and faced him, their eyes locking.

“I don’t want your apologies, Bruce,” Y/N said, her voice raw. “I want you to be present, to actually care about me for once, instead of pushing me away when things get hard.”

Bruce nodded, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

And then, despite the anger and the hurt, Y/N stepped forward, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I love you, but you can’t keep doing this.”

Bruce held her close, his arms around her as he whispered, “I won’t. I swear.”

They stayed like that for a while, in the quiet aftermath, the storm between them finally passing.

The Kitchen:

The tension between Y/N and Bruce had finally broken, but the air still hummed with unspoken emotions. After their heated conversation and tentative reconciliation, they found themselves in the kitchen, surrounded by silence—except for the soft sounds of their breathing.

Bruce stood near the counter, his eyes still filled with regret but now also an overwhelming sense of relief. Y/N was close, too close, and neither of them cared to pull away. It had been a long, exhausting night, but as they stood in the soft, dim light of the kitchen, their feelings for each other bubbled to the surface once again.

Without saying a word, Bruce reached for Y/N, pulling her into him, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was desperate, raw, and full of everything they had been holding back. Y/N’s hands instinctively cupped his face, deepening the kiss as she felt the overwhelming need for connection—finally, something real between them.

For a moment, it was as if the world outside the kitchen didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, standing in the quiet after the storm, finding solace in each other’s touch. The lingering tension of the argument and the unspoken words from earlier melted away with each passing second.

But, of course, the world wasn’t going to let them have their moment.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps came from the hallway, followed by voices. Dick, Tim, and Jason had been planning to give them some time alone to work things out, but the minute they stepped into the kitchen, they froze—caught off guard by the very sight they had hoped to avoid.

Y/N and Bruce broke apart quickly, but neither of them moved too far, still wrapped in the warmth of each other. Bruce, looking flustered and a little embarrassed, turned toward the three men standing in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

“Uh, what are you guys doing here?” Bruce asked, attempting to regain some semblance of composure, his voice a little more strained than usual.

“Uh…” Jason mumbled, his face turning bright red. “We, uh, were going to tell you something important…”

Tim’s eyes darted nervously between the two of them. “But, uh, I think we might’ve interrupted something…”

Dick, his usual charm replaced by an awkward, bashful grin, quickly averted his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to—uh, well, didn’t mean to walk in on that…”

Y/N, unfazed and still standing close to Bruce, let out a soft laugh, brushing off their mortification with a roll of her eyes. “It’s fine, guys. Really. We’re grown adults, we don’t need to hide in a closet every time we kiss.”

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration. “You can’t just barge in like that, guys…”

Y/N, still smirking, cut him off. “Anyway, what’s the prompt you wanted to tell us? You clearly had something important to say.”

The three men blinked at her, still processing the fact that they had just walked in on one of the most awkward and intimate moments they could imagine. They exchanged looks, still too stunned to make sense of the situation.

Tim cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well, we just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out for breakfast. We were all planning on going and figured you might join us, but… I guess we’ll just—”

“Yeah, not the best timing,” Jason finished, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe we should go… leave you two alone?”

Bruce shook his head, unable to suppress a smirk, even though he was still embarrassed. “You should’ve thought about that before barging in.”

Y/N, ever the one to turn the situation around, gave them a small grin. “You know what? Breakfast sounds good. We can talk about whatever ‘important’ thing you were going to say… but if you make it awkward again, I swear I’ll send you all to the kids’ table.”

Dick laughed awkwardly, and the tension in the room slowly started to dissipate. They weren’t about to overstay their welcome, so one by one, the three of them backed out of the kitchen, still chuckling nervously.

Bruce wrapped his arms around Y/N again once they were alone. “Well, that was mortifying.”

Y/N, with a playful grin, shrugged. “Hey, it’s their fault for barging in. Besides, at least they know we’re good now.”

Bruce groaned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little,” she teased, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

With that, they walked out of the kitchen together, ready to face the morning, the awkwardness, and the family dynamic they’d always shared—with a bit more love between them than before.

In the Batcave:

The Batcave was alive with the usual hum of machinery, its vastness swallowed by shadows. The soft glow of computer screens illuminated the otherwise dark space, the quiet sounds of tapping keys echoing off the walls. Y/N was hunched over one of the workstations, focused on a blueprint for a prototype she was developing for Bruce and the team. Tim stood beside her, his fingers dancing over a set of intricate tools as they pieced together the parts.

“I think we’ve got it,” Y/N said, her eyes squinting at the screen. “Just a few more adjustments to the power supply, and we’ll be able to test it.”

Tim nodded, tapping away on his own keyboard. “It’s looking solid. Bruce will be happy with this one.”

At the mention of his name, Bruce walked in, his usual stoic expression softened with a hint of curiosity. He moved silently, as always, observing Y/N and Tim at work. His footsteps were almost inaudible, and the only sign of his presence was the small shift in the air.

Dick followed him, appearing far more relaxed. “What’s going on here? Need some backup?” he asked, leaning over their shoulders and inspecting the setup.

Damian walked in next, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “I assume this is important,” he said, his voice tinged with skepticism, “but I’d rather be training.”

Y/N flashed Damian a grin. “You’ll get your training in soon enough. Let’s focus on this for now. You might learn something.”

Bruce watched them all silently for a moment, leaning against a nearby pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. “How’s it going?” he asked, his voice cool but tinged with genuine interest.

Y/N straightened up, looking at him and offering a small smile. “Almost there. Just fine-tuning the design, making sure the enhancements work with the existing tech.”

Tim spoke up, “It should give you guys an extra edge—speed, power, and stealth all in one.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, impressed. “That sounds promising.”

As they worked, the tension between Y/N and Bruce was still palpable. Despite the earlier moments of closeness, their dynamic was always complicated. But at least now, there was a sense of teamwork. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

After a few minutes, Y/N noticed Jason standing at the far end of the Batcave, his back leaning against the wall. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just watching them with a distant look on his face. Y/N’s expression faltered slightly, and she couldn’t help but frown at the sight of him.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured under her breath, her tone casual but with a hint of concern.

Jason’s gaze flickered to her, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to brush her off, but something about her expression made him pause. He looked at the ground for a second, then finally, his eyes met hers, his voice quieter than usual. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Y/N could tell it wasn’t the whole truth. She stood up from the workstation, brushing her hands on her pants as she took a few steps toward him. “Jason…”

He looked up at her, his face unreadable. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, a genuine concern in her eyes. “You’ve been… distant.”

Jason hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to worry about me, Y/N. I’ve been around long enough to handle my own problems.”

Y/N gave him a knowing look, crossing her arms. “You’ve also been around long enough to know we’re family. And families don’t hide things from each other.”

There was a long pause. Jason’s gaze dropped again, his jaw tightening. For a moment, Y/N thought he might turn and leave without saying anything. But then he spoke, his voice rougher now, tinged with frustration.

“I messed up,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done the things I did. I hurt people, Y/N. I hurt you. And it’s hard… harder than I thought to fix it.”

Y/N’s heart softened, and she stepped closer to him. “Jason,” she said gently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You’ve made mistakes. We all have. But you’re still part of this family. And no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Jason looked up at her, his expression vulnerable for the first time in a long while. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Y/N replied with a small smile. “You just have to be here. We’ve got your back. Always.”

Without another word, she pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around him. Jason stiffened at first, clearly not used to this kind of affection, but then his arms slowly wrapped around her in return. For a brief moment, everything felt a little bit lighter.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jason whispered, his voice barely audible. “I needed that.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes. “Anytime.”

She gave him one more reassuring squeeze before pulling away, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the team. They had been watching from a distance, the usual banter between them momentarily silenced as they took in the scene.

Bruce, still standing nearby, nodded approvingly, though his face was hard to read. “We all have our moments,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “But we get through them.”

Damian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his eyes darting between the two of them before returning to the prototype on the table. Dick’s gaze softened, a small but warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Tim, always the logical one, crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Alright, now that all the emotional stuff is out of the way, can we finish this prototype?”

Jason, despite his earlier distance, smirked, his usual deflecting humor returning. “Yeah, yeah, I’m not crying or anything. Let’s get back to work, geeks.”

Y/N grinned at him, stepping back to the workbench with renewed energy. “That’s more like it. Let’s get this thing finished.”

And just like that, the team fell back into their rhythm, working together with a renewed sense of unity. For once, there was no tension between them—just the shared understanding that, no matter what had happened in the past, they would always be there for each other.

[winterrrnight]

unravel

PAIRING: frat!soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe has had his eyes set on the girl who isn't falling for his charms the way every girl seems to do.

WARNINGS: college!au; reader is hard to get, an ambivert, reserved; rafe is just frat!rafe in the start but slowly develops into extremely soft!rafe; a lot of comfort; rafe calls reader princess; intentional lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: this was initially just a little concept on rafe pining for a hard to get reader, but it got longer than the usual word count of my concepts so it's now a little fic! i hope this is extremely comforting cause I swear we all need this 💞🥹 just wanna say I'm here for every single one of you 💗💗

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always highly appreciated 🌻

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rafe’s heard it all; hot, sexy, handsome, charming, and boy, does he eat it up each time. he knows he is a 10 out of 10, and when each girl in college is always on her knees for him, it doesn’t help but only boosts his ego.

but when you come around, it is all so different.

you don’t give into his charms the way everyone else seems to give. you aren’t running after him like a lost puppy, you aren’t pining for him, and that sets rafe off.

and that’s exactly why he needs you.

he catches you any moment he can; before class, after class, in the cafeteria, in the huge lawn, outside your dorms; any moment he sees you, he’s coming over to you, and never being able to keep his mouth shut.

“so princess…”

“shut up.”

that’s basically how all your conversations go. you roll your eyes at him each time and just walk away, but he has a smirk pulling on his lips all the damn time, always walking right next to you.

it’s like he’s forgotten about all the other girls in college. the ones who are willingly ready to take him, to give him attention every second of every day; but here he wants you, who doesn’t even make eye contact with him for more than two seconds without you rolling your eyes at him.

he always looks at you as the reserved kind of person. you aren’t seen around with a big group of friends, but just two or three close ones. you aren’t always talking, but you are quite open with your close friends. it’s hard to gather much information about you from around, and he believes that if it was the other way round, information about him would be so easily accessible. oh, and it does not help that your instagram is private and you still haven’t accepted his request.

if anything, that intrigues him even more. he wants to get close to you, to find out more about you, to unravel every thread of your existence till he knows you better than you know yourself.

it’s a nice spring afternoon, and rafe had quite few classes as compared to usual. he decides to head to the library – a place whose exact location he didn’t even know until 5 months into college – to finish this goddamned essay that’s been hanging on his head for the past week now.

as he walks inside, the vexed look on his face is instantly replaced by a quite simpered one when he spots you. he’s already making his way to you, around 20 different one liners in his head he can kick start the conversation with to see that irritated look on your face which he adores with his whole heart. but the coy smile leaves just the next second when he gets a clear look at you.

you’re crying.

your head hangs low as you’re quietly sobbing so absolutely no one else can hear you; but then the library is quite empty. your eyes are shut tight as tears roll down your hot cheeks, and rafe feels his heart physically break.

break in such a way that if you hear carefully, you can hear it shattering.

a frown etches his lips and a deep furrow forms in his brows as he slowly makes his way to you.

“princess…” he mutters softly, keeping a gentle hand on your shoulder. you’re startled at the sudden touch which causes you to gasp and makes you look up, your blurry eyes coming in contact with his warm, blue ones.

“not now rafe…” you whisper, shifting your shoulder which causes rafe’s hand to drop. you move a hand to your face to wipe off your tears, sniffling silently.

“hey talk to me…” he whispers softly, sitting down in the empty chair next to you. he doesn’t touch you in any way, just keeps a soft gaze at you and notices how you still keep your head down, trying your best to not sob as much as you were earlier. he makes a quick note of how your fingers are pulling onto each other, pinching and squeezing the flesh of them.

rafe knows for sure he’s never experienced anything sadder than watching tears roll down your pretty face. he knows it’s the last thing he wants to see. and he knows he wants to be the one who makes sure a tear never falls down your face ever again.

“listen princess…” he whispers, leaning just a bit closer to you, “you can trust me okay? you really can,” he gently places a hand over your snaked fingers, causing you to stop your fidgeting. his hand is warm, and as he gently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, you can slowly feel your tears dying down.

rafe gently holds one of your hand and brings it up to his chest, placing it right above his heart. you look up to him, your glassy eyes slightly widened at his action. “just feel it okay?” he whispers. “try to match your breathing with it.” you feel the rhythmic thumping of his heart under your palm, and your expression softens as your eyes flutter shut, your breathing starting to match with his.

“good… good…” he whispers gently, moving his other hand to gently wipe your cheeks. his breath gets caught in his throat when he sees you don’t move away, but ever so subtly lean more into his touch.

“talk whenever you feel like, I’m not putting you in any hurry…” he mumbles, his thumb now gently skimming your cheek in a periodic manner, his palm resting against your cheek, and your face nuzzling against the warmth of his hand.

you nod at his words, just letting his soothing words, touch and presence take all over your senses, before you slowly collect your thoughts to talk to him.

if rafe would’ve earlier known that the way to your heart wasn’t dropping a snarky one liner each time he sees you, but to provide you a safe and comforting space to open up in, he would’ve done it way sooner.

because he’s finally doing what he wanted.

unraveling every thread of your existence till he knows you better than you know yourself.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[vaguely-concerned]

Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.” 

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.” 

“You named your horse after an archdemon?” 

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.) 

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear. 

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe 

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.” 

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.” 

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant. 

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider. 

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.” 

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.” 

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka. 

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.” 

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.” 

“It could be me.” 

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.” 

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!” 

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back. 

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats 

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.  

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me. 

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.) 

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Seventh? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation 

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay  

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality) 

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man? 

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol) 

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me. 

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva  

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva  

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.  

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand. 

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.” 

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.” 

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.” 

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face. 

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight. 

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

For the person in my messages who asked for tips on tackling the Silmarillion and then suggested that I put them in a post — here they are! This is just my personal opinion, and others have weighed in on this topic before. But in case it’s helpful:

1. Be kind to yourself about this task! There’s a reason lots of people find the Silm challenging, and if you do, too, that’s no judgment of you.

2. IMHO, the first few chapters are the hardest, so try not to let them intimidate you out of the whole thing. It starts off with this very formal, archaic tone, and the early chapters take on some very abstract, metaphysical ideas. But you get used to the tone, and the story comes down out of the clouds to something more grounded and closer to a traditional (but still mythological-style) narrative. (Note “hardest” does not mean “bad” — I love those chapters!)

3. Realistically, you are not going to remember every name, place, and detail, so have a plan for that. Everything’s got a thousand names and Tolkien doesn’t always do a good job telegraphing what info is significant and will come back later vs what will literally only ever be mentioned once in passing. So expect to take some notes or spend time flipping back to earlier chapters or to the index or just googling as needed to remind yourself exactly who that angry elf is and why it’s a big deal that his own magical dog wants nothing to do with him now.

4. Find someone to read along/discuss with you. Talking about it helps you retain the info better, puzzle out stuff you found confusing, and stoke your interest by letting you dive deep into characters or themes or ideas that are especially amazing (Gwindor my beloved!). You can read along with someone in real life, someone here (hi!) or with a podcast or YouTube series, of which there are a bunch that go through the book chapter by chapter in an accessible way. (If anyone wants recs for this purpose, just LMK!)

5. Embrace that the story is nuanced and complex, which means your reaction can be the same. If you read it and find yourself wondering, “I’m not sure how to feel about [cursed human X] doing [morally objectionable thing Y]” or “I don’t understand where [spider-shaped creature of darkness Z] came from and how she got so incredibly cool powerful?” — that doesn’t mean you read it wrong! There is room for interpretation, and a lot of questions raised by the book don’t actually have obvious answers. (Questions like, is evil ever justified? Can redemption be earned and how? What do we owe to others even at a cost to ourselves? Big stuff!)

6. DNF it if you want! There’s no rule that says you have to read the Silm to be a Tolkien fan, and you don’t have to suffer through something you find unpleasant just to earn some Tolkien Points. I think it’s a gorgeous book that feeds my need to wrestle with big Life Questions while giving me some indelible characters that will always stay with me, but you don’t have to think that. Art is subjective, and there are plenty of other ways to enjoy Tolkien if the Silm turns out not to be your thing.

[kcwriter-blog]

More thoughts on Solavellan

I started replying to a post about the psychological aspect of Solavellan because it was interesting, well thought out and I thought good points were made but it got very long, and I had new thoughts. I wanted to put them down. This is not a criticism of that post in any way, it’s good and I urge people to read it. I just see things differently.

The big problem I have with most takes on Solavellan is how they take agency away from Lavellan whenever Solas is mentioned. We have a woman who grew to be one of the most powerful leaders in Thedas but when we talk about her and her feelings, she suddenly becomes this naive child desperately in love with the man who broke her heart. I just don’t see it. I don’t see a relationship – no matter how intense – of a few months, defining her going forward. So, let’s look at it.

Solas and Lavellan do love each other deeply. We don’t hear Lavellan say I love you until the breakup scene and she never calls him vehnan until Trespasser. Obviously, that is, as with most things in the romance, because it was a rushed, late add to the game. But it is interesting.

People get on Solas’ case for not defining the relationship, but I would argue she isn’t in a hurry to define it either. Which is smart. They haven’t been together long and one, the other, or both of them could die.

It’s possible that Crestwood is the first chance they have had to talk about it. I’ve never liked the first dialogue option because Lavellan seems genuinely surprised that up until now, she doesn’t know what to call Solas. Which is silly. They have been exclusive for a few months now. They are in love. She’s been calling him something and my guess is it is vhenan (her heart, home). And Solas fully intends to have that discussion. He just gets cold feet because what he has to tell her isn’t something she is going to believe.

Moving on. The valleslin scene has had a lot posted about it and I don’t want to get into it. I think what’s important is not whether it is removed or not but the idea that Solas alone destroys her faith by telling her the truth. Did he hammer the final nail in the coffin of her faith? Yes, but a smart Lavellan has to be questioning everything already. Why? Because she met Mythal.

Even before she meets the head of her pantheon, she has been to the Temple of Mythal and learned a lot that differs from her people’s mythology. She learns that Mythal was murdered, not locked away. She learns that the Dread Wolf had no part in that murder. She sees a depiction of the Dread Wolf in an antechamber of the temple in a guard dog position which is weird. If she drank from the Well, she has a lot of ancient elven voices in her head telling her stuff. If she didn’t, she would have Morrigan telling her the same stuff.

She meets ancient elves. And those elves don’t see her or the Dalish as their own. Just as a reminder, Solas isn’t the only ancient elf to have feelings about the Dalish. Abelas is very pointed about saying Lavellan isn’t one of his people. Felassan makes fun of the Dalish. Mythal says “the People bend the knee to easily” in DA2. Heck, Felassan thinks more of the city elves than he does of the Dalish. Solas eventually comes around. It’s a grudging respect but he does allow that they have some good qualities.

Lavellan meets Mythal and Mythal isn’t exactly a nice person. She has chosen to possess the body of a human, not an elf. She never helps the elves. So, you have an elven goddess in diminished form running around helping human heroes but doing nothing for the people that pray to her. That must rock her world and her faith.

Her faith is already on the ledge by Crestwood. Solas possibly pushes it over. And he never would have told her if he hadn’t messed up and changed his mind about the other thing. It’s all impulsive. He isn’t thinking straight, just covering his ass and it hurts her. However, I think he still intended to carry on the relationship without telling her the truth. During the kiss, he finally realizes that if he loves her so much he almost told her everything, then not telling her is morally wrong and he comes up with a reason to end it.

After the breakup, Lavellan is hurt. It always hurts when someone breaks up with you. What hurts the most is knowing he still loves her. What also hurts is he won’t give her a reason. I don’t think she is questioning everything he told her at this point. He’s just the cold-hearted son of a bitch who broke her heart.

Most of us have been there. We’ve got breakup playlists, alcohol and friends to help get us through it. I usually imagine my Lavellan grabbing Bull, Dorian and Cole to help her take out her anger on a poor unsuspecting dragon. I also put off triggering the Wicked Grace game until after the breakup.

That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry or crying on Josephine’s shoulder. Of course she is, but she isn’t questioning her life choices. She could tell Solas to get lost, but she keeps him around. She is even kind to him when the Orb is discovered broken.

And everyone is kind of busy planning to find and finish Corypheus off once and for all. I see her putting a pin in it. Once they win, she will confront him and demand answers.

She doesn’t get the chance because he leaves without saying goodbye. That has to hurt. I don’t see her in a place where she could never trust anyone ever again. It’s more likely, she throws daggers at a drawing of him out in the practice yard. Even if she still loves him, she is an adult not a maiden in distress. As much as she loves Solas, her entire world does not revolve around him.

Solas made his choice. She may be concerned about him - especially after Cole’s cryptic message - but I don’t see her searching frantically for him. He knows where she is and can send her a message if he needs her.  

And she is busy. She must help clean up the mess Cory made. She has rifts to close. She has dignitaries to meet. She has paperwork. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for pining.

There is an idea that Lavellan is alone because all of her inner circle except her advisors go off and do their own thing. Except that isn’t true. They write letters – which you can find exploring the Winter Palace – in those letters some of them mention having visited or that they will visit. Lavellan is also capable of making new friends. She is not static.

Solas leaving her may still hurt. She may have (and probably did) tried to move on but so far no one matched him for any number of reasons. She is only alone in the sense that any leader is alone. What she probably misses the most about Solas is that he always treated her like a person, not an icon.

Then we get to Trespasser. If you have found all the clues for the secret dialogue option, she has figured out Solas is the Dread Wolf long before she confronts him. She has seen the murals, learned his story. She knows the Dalish got it wrong. She knows from experience that the Dalish get a lot wrong. And he’s Solas. She might not know him as well as she thought but she saw beneath his mask a little. She isn’t going to be afraid of this figure out of Dalish legend. Mostly she is going to be pissed because he didn’t tell her the truth, because he didn’t trust her.

As far as the arm thing goes. Weekes and Epler have said, he did not amputate her arm. Solas drew out the magic that was killing her. The arm disintegrated. It was already doing so by the time she meets Solas. If he hadn’t drawn out the magic, she would have disintegrated just like Solas’ friend Wisdom. I think arguments that she would have trouble trusting anyone based on this are a non-starter

Once all that is over, will Lavellan have a hard time trusting anyone? She will have a hard time trusting Solas. Who wouldn’t? Will it color her perception of anyone she might want to be romantically involved with? For a few years maybe but what are the chances she will fall in love with another god?

Trust isn’t just about people you’ve been romantically linked with. She still trusts her inner circle. They help her. A bad experience with one person, no matter how much she may love him, isn’t going to make her stop trusting people entirely.

Now apart from Solavellan, I’m pretty sure Lavellan is messed up psychologically. You can’t go through what she did and not be a little messed up. But it is that experience that may make her empathize with Solas and understand why he left her.

She knows what it is like to be a leader. Not in the sense of leading her clan but in the sense that her decisions have huge consequences. She knows how a leader’s decisions are always second guessed - like they are at the Exalted Council if you chose to exile the Wardens. She knows what it is like to have to step up and be the one to save the world. She knows that sometimes there are no good choices, and you do the best you can. She knows it messes you up and you can lose your way. Solas has lost his.

Is it ten times harder to empathize when you loved that person, and they destroyed your trust? Yes. Solas will have to win her trust back. She will view anything he says or does with suspicion, as anyone would. However, Solas rarely outright lies. She knows this. She will be asking a lot more questions and be paying more attention. She also knows that he didn’t lie about loving her.

Okay, but he is still planning to tear down the Veil so he must not love her very much. Her love moved the needle. He went from believing nothing was real to thinking everyone is real. Is it so hard to imagine that Lavellan thinks he can be reasoned with? I doubt she thinks her love alone will change him. That doesn’t mean she won’t want to try. That doesn’t mean she will want him back when it’s all over. It also doesn’t mean she is a quivering mess obsessing over their relationship.

Solavellan can be whatever you want it to be, based on your own experiences. For some it's an angsty story with a Lavellan pining for him. For others, she gets over it fast with Cullen's help. For me, she is a strong, proud woman who is able to use her own experiences to empathize with Solas and want to save him from himself. She may still love him, but that love has been tempered by her experiences with him. They will need to have a long talk if they ever meet up again.

[cheshireliam]

"Once More, An Evil From Which You Can't Return" Story Event: Chapter 1

Roger Barel & Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

This event story works in such a way that Chapter 1 is for Suitor A and Chapter 2 is for Suitor B, before splitting into two endings.

⇦ Prologue

━━━━

— The next day after I lost my memories.

Kate: … Thank you for the meal.

I sat at the breakfast table, but my mind was fully occupied by the fact I’d lost my memories…

In the end, I only had a small portion of fruit and some morning tea before getting up from my seat. 

…

(I wonder how I can get my memories back…)

Even after leaving the dining hall, that was all I could think about.

Just then, I heard someone’s footsteps coming from behind me.

Roger: Wait up, lil’ lady. 

Roger: We had a date planned for today. It’s still on, right?

(I don't recall anything about a date. Does this mean I made that promise before I lost my memories?) 

I found myself unconsciously staring at Roger’s face in confusion, and then he suddenly reached out to grab my chin— 

Roger: …

Kate: … W-what do you think you’re doing!?

When I realised our lips were just mere inches apart, I quickly pushed against his broad and sturdy chest to stop him.

Roger: Hm? You were staring so intently at me, I thought you wanted a kiss. … Was I wrong?

Kate: Definitely wrong! 

(Don’t tell me, Roger and I were dating? Even if we were, his explanation is too self-centered…!)

(I can’t believe this egotistical man is my lover!) 

Roger: Well, a promise is a promise. You're going on a date with me. 

As I stood there all flustered, Roger’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

…

(... Whether Roger is really my lover or not, it might've been a good idea to come out to town.)

Hoping that seeing the familiar streets might jog my memory, I followed after Roger— 

Roger: Having someone with me to carry the bags really does make a difference. 

Kate: This isn't a date, now is it!? 

(We went to several pharmacies, bought tons of medicine and bandages… there’s no way this counts as a date.)

Roger: It is, though? A shopping date.

Kate: I’m not seeing anything remotely romantic about this… 

Roger: Come on, don’t start slowing down. We’ve got more places to drop by.

Kate: More? My hands are already at their limit, can’t we take a break…?

At the same time I said that, my stomach let out a loud growl, announcing that it “wanted a break” too.

Roger: Pfft, HAHAHAHAHA! 

Kate: T-that’s because you dragged me all over town… 

Roger: In that case, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, as an apology. 

Kate: Eh? But…

(Is he really okay with that?)

Roger: What’re you hesitating about? We’re close enough for me to do that. Let’s go. 

…

Roger: This is my regular spot.

Roger: Let’s look at the menu… you’re good with starting off with a beer, right?

Kate: S-sure. 

Roger: Then we’ll have some snacks, something hearty for the main dish, and… 

While I scanned the menu, Roger placed our orders and sounded like he really was familiar with the place. 

When the food finally arrived…

Kate: Fish and chips, aged meat, potatoes seasoned with rock salt, banbury cake…! 

Kate: Wow… these are all my favourites! 

Roger: … I see. 

The small feeling of confusion I got… was because I expected him to go “told you so” when I expressed my delight at the food. 

Instead, Roger’s eyes were slightly narrowed, looking as though he was reminiscing about a memory I couldn’t recall. 

(Could it be that we’ve eaten together before?)

(Is that why Roger knows exactly what I like…?) 

Roger: What’s wrong? You stopped eating. Come on, eat up. 

Kate: Ah, right… thanks for the meal!

When I looked at him again, his facial expression was back to his usual grin. 

I took a bite of the steak and a smile naturally formed on my lips the moment the flavours spread in my mouth. 

Roger: That’s the smile I want to see. You have a bad habit of overthinking things to the point of losing your appetite. 

Roger: I know you’re getting all sorts of uneasy emotions right now, but you should eat well, sleep well, play hard, and laugh even harder. That’s how you keep your spirits up. 

Kate: Okay! 

(... Maybe that's the real purpose of today’s shopping trip.) 

Roger must’ve noticed how troubled I looked this morning and took me outside to distract me. 

I still wasn’t sure if we really had a shopping trip planned for today before I lost my memories, 

(But I’m not going to ask.) 

Had Roger not asked me out, I probably would’ve spent the entire day alone and brooding over my memory loss. 

Roger: These mashed potatoes soaked in the meat’s juices are amazing.

Roger: We should order more. You can still eat, right? 

Kate: Yes, of course! 

(I’m glad I accepted Roger’s invite.)

Kate: Thank you so much, Roger. Eating really cheered me up. 

(I always thought Roger was a pushy, selfish egotist, but he’s actually so kind and dependable.)

I found myself wondering about my past self before I lost my memories. 

(Did I… know this side of Roger before?) 

Roger: Why are you looking at me like that? Are you falling for me? 

(If only he wouldn't say such things…!) 

Kate: … It seems I’ve had a lover before. So I can’t think of falling for anyone else right now.

Roger: A past lover…?

Roger: Instead of clinging to your old flame, why not take this as a chance to choose again? 

Roger: Be my lover, Kate. 

Kate: T-that'd count as being disloyal towards my lover. And besides… 

(Even though I’ve lost my memories, there’s still one thing I can say for certain.) 

Kate: If I did have someone I once loved, I believe I’ll fall in love with them again. 

Roger: … Fall in love again, huh. 

I couldn't tell what were the emotions that flickered behind his wavering eyes.

But, in the very next moment—

Roger: Well, if ever you want to go to bed with me, just say the word. 

(This man, seriously…!) 

He said those utterly shameless words in broad daylight while downing his beer in one breath, and I barely managed to hold myself back from punching him. 

[artdcnaldson]

Can I say I want step dad Patrick to spike my drink 🙂🙂🙂🙂or are we not fucking w it

I’m fucking with it 💜

TW: Noncon, drugging 🚨🚨🚨 don’t like don’t read ok thank youuuuu <3

You’re embarrassing him at one of his family’s charity galas, and he usually wouldn’t give a fuck, but you just seem primed to piss him off. The low cut, trashy dress you’re wearing, the way you flirt with the goddamn bartender and dance like you’re in a fucking nightclub on the mostly vacant dance floor.

He’s gotten enough sly comments about how you’re old enough to be his wife, not his stepdaughter. Asking how he controls himself around you, and he just has to brush it off, saying he’s a married man and he loves his wife.

He loves his endless supply of money, because she's so happy to spoil her young, beautiful husband. He loves not being cut off by his parents, because they're proud that he made a good match and is acting like a grown up, for once in his life. He loves that he has you around the house; rich and bored and aimless, half naked, looking at him like your next meal. He loves that he has you and your mom to look at him like he means something, after an injury fucked away his last chance at getting a single major tournament under his belt.

He doesn’t know why he does it. But he has a few valium that he keeps in a little baggie in his wallet, just in case his shoulder starts acting up again, and you're just... really pissing him the fuck off. So he grabs two flutes of champagne as the waiters pass them around for his father's big speech, which is really just a thirty minute circle jerk. He crushes up a couple pills and sweeps the powder into one of the glasses.

"Here," he says, finding you near the back of the crowd, having been squeezed out by middle-management who want attention from the big boss. "For the toast."

You smile over your glass, pretty lips already leaving a glossy mark on the rim as you peer up at him. "My hero." There's a tiny twinge of guilt as you down the glass of champagne, when he knows there's a line that's been crossed that he can't exactly redraw. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and grab another glass of champagne. "It's on grandpa's dime. Who fucking cares."

It kicks in before the speech is even over. Your eyes drooping, your body stumbling and clumsy, to the point that you have to cling onto him for stability. "'m really tired," you murmur against his ear, so out of it that your lips graze against his jaw, and he can hear the sticky click of saliva in your mouth.

He has to haul you out of the party, with a few exasperated remarks about how embarrassed he is, and how he's going to get you back to your hotel room to rest. You doze against his shoulder in the elevator, nearly drooling on his nice suit. He half-drags you down the hall, thumbs through your clutch until he finds your room key.

You slump on the bed in the same position he drops you in— a puddle of silk and sequins, your dress hiked up your thighs, one of the straps fallen down your shoulder. You give a soft mmphf, eyes fluttering softly, legs going limp as you try to reposition yourself comfortably. But, god, even that's too much. effort.

You're so vulnerable like this, so sweet. You turn onto your back and he has to stifle a groan at the sight of your tits exposed by the loose, unkempt neckline, nipples pebbled in the cold air of the hotel.

It wouldn't be right to take advantage of you like this. No, that would be... it would be wrong. He didn't drug you so he could fuck you, he drugged you to get you to stop making a scene. That was... it was normal. Right? People gave their dogs Benadryl to keep them from freaking out sometimes. It was fine.

And any biological reaction to your unconscious body and your perfect tits was just that. Biological. And maybe also an effect of the millions of fucking tempting moments he's had with you.

It's not wrong if he doesn't touch you. That's what he keeps reminding himself as he pops the button to the fancy pants of his suit, as he spits in his palm and wraps his fist around his cock. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

You make a soft, sleepy noise as you shift a bit and it does him over entirely. He cums into his fist, making a mess of his boxers. He wipes his hand on the sticky fabric, cleaning himself up as best as he can. Before he leaves your room, he covers you with the duvet so you don't get cold.

Someone has to look after you, after all.

[lune-moon-nuit]

Mike and Will are two sides of the same coin. But Mike's curse is invisibility

I really love how @aemiron-main brought to light the idea that Will is a representation of LGBTQ people who are actively targeted because of their sexuality, and hated by their parents—parents who clearly perceive them and hate them for it (or at least one of them does, like in the case of Lonnie).

Meanwhile, Mike is a representation of LGBTQ people who slip through the cracks, the invisible ones, the ones their parents can’t see even though they desperately want to be seen and understood by them.

And I think it’s such a brilliant idea to have written them this way, to portray these different realities within the LGBTQ community—because yes, the 80s setting fits, but it’s not just about that. It breaks down stereotypes by showing us the overlooked representations, the so-called invisible community, the one Mike represents—so invisible that even the general audience of Stranger Things (aside from film students who know how to read cinematic language, and LGBTQ people who understand because we’re way less affected by the lens of heteronormativity) can miss it.

The fact that Mike and Will are both gay but in completely different situations is so fascinating. Whether it’s Lonnie or the bullies, or the people in town filled with judgment and prejudice, or even the ones who mean well—like his mom, his brother, and his friends—everyone sees Will.

Lonnie and the bullies take his sensitivity as an insult and attack him for it. Joyce and Jonathan cherish it and accept him for who he is. But either way, he’s seen.

And that’s the double-edged sword: being visible means he’s an easy target for hatred and violence. That’s why no one—not even Hopper or Ted Wheeler—was surprised at the idea that Will might be a victim of a hate crime.

But on the other hand, the people who love him and accept him can see him. They notice immediately when something’s wrong. They know when he’s not okay. They realize right away when he goes missing.

Who ever noticed that Mike was suffering? How long would it have taken for the Wheeler parents to realize Mike hadn’t come home if El hadn’t saved him from falling off that cliff?

Like the post said so perfectly—people don’t recognize Mike’s difference.

Sure, he’s spared from the bullying—kind of. He still gets bullied for his frog face, for being a nerd. But before Will disappeared, he didn’t seem to be targeted by the homophobic slurs that were directed at Will.

It’s not that they hate him. It’s that they don’t see him.

And that would explain his obsession with superheroes and people with powers, but also his desire to be normal. Deep down, Mike wants to be different. He wants to be seen. He wants to be himself—but he also knows how dangerous that is. He’s seen what happened to Will. And to El.

And one really important thing that aemiron-main said (which I think would explain the cliff scene so well, and which I really hope Season 5 will explore):

Will represents gay men who die from hate crimes. Mike represents gay men who die by suicide.

Will represents gay men who are too visible (through no fault of their own), whose families and the people around them sensed their queerness from a very young age. Mike represents gay men who are invisible—not hated, but never supported either.

Will represents gay men who are tormented, or taken away by force. Mike represents gay men who run away from home—or disappear by taking their own lives.

Will is a gay boy who gets picked on and called “queer” because of how he dresses. Mike is a gay boy whose clothes go unnoticed.

Will is good at hiding because he’s visible. He has to hide because people seem to see right through him.

Mike isn’t good at hiding. He’s not good at pretending to be “normal” because he never had to. He’s invisible. No one ever saw him before.

He never had to hide the way Will did.

Will had to learn how to hide and how to act “normal.” That’s exactly why he hates when people treat him differently, like he’s a “freak.” Will doesn’t want to be treated differently—because he’s always been treated differently.

Because he’s too visible. So he had to learn how to act “normal.”

Meanwhile, Mike wants to be treated differently—because he’s been invisible his entire life.

He never had to learn how to hide, or how to behave “normally,” not really. Even though now he tries, he doesn’t know how, because he never had to before.

Where Lonnie noticed every trace of queerness in Will, Ted just… ignored everything. Too busy being passive and watching TV.

Will was so visible that he couldn’t even breathe without Lonnie noticing and forcing him to play baseball, because “that’s what boys do.” Mike is so invisible he could’ve screamed “I have a girl with magical powers in my basement who’s wanted by the government” and Ted wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

Mike and Will are two sides of the same coin.

And now that I think about it… poor Mike is just lost. He doesn’t know where he fits.

Because he’s an invisible gay kid, he doesn’t feel normal—so he thinks he has to protect himself by hiding his difference and pretending to be normal. He performs heteronormativity for the whole world to see (aka the cis-het “normals”).

But at the same time, he’s not seen or accepted by the “different” ones either—because they don’t perceive his difference.

(Like when El says “no you don’t” after Mike tells her he knows what it’s like to be bullied—because she meant being different, and she didn’t see that in him.)

Mike doesn’t feel at home with the “normal” people, because deep down he knows he’s different. But he doesn’t feel different enough to be embraced by those who are different.

So he’s stuck. He’s floating in between. He doesn’t know where his place is.

Which also explains why it’s so hard for him to develop a sense of self-worth outside of being needed. Outside of being useful.

He suppresses and denies his own trauma because he thinks it doesn’t “count.” Because he didn’t go through what Will went through. Or what El went through. So he tells himself it’s nothing.

His curse is invisibility.

Even we, the audience, don’t get access to his point of view. He’s ignored, overlooked, minimized—and especially misunderstood.

And all of this gives him that aching feeling of belonging nowhere. Not normal enough, not different enough. Not this, not that.

Mike Wheeler is Vecna’s playground, honestly. If he isn’t one of his targets in Season 5, then what was the point of writing such a painfully complex character?

Here is the post who inspired me this post.

[sprinkler-ashes]

begin again // aaron hotchner x reader

begin again

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which there are five times that aaron hotchner restores your faith in love and one time where you restore his. inspired by begin again by taylor swift.

words: 6.1k

warnings: cursing, a touch of angst, hotch in a quarter zip and casual clothes (yes this requires a warning), fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, reader has an awful ex (gn pronouns for ex), mentions of violence and injuries

a/n: i’ve been working on this all throughout the week every night at like 3 am running on, at best, 4 hours of sleep so i’m very sorry if there are grammar/spelling errors – i will edit soon. also i fear i’ve been watching too much dharma & greg, and this was the product. enjoy!

i've been spending the last eight months

thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

but on a wednesday in a cafe

i watched it begin again

One.

It was week one of your new job at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit when you knew with absolute certainty that as soon as you arrived back at the bureau, you were going to hand in your resignation.

You were sitting away from the rest of the team who all sat together, though a little cramped, and deep into discussion about something that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. They were talking normally as if everything they just witnessed over the last few days didn’t affect them.

You knew that you were new to this – it was your first week on the job. But you felt like you should be… happier than the way you currently felt. This was your dream job: one that you’ve spent years working towards. One that you gave everything up for, including your relationship.

However, it was starting to feel like it wasn’t worth it.

The team was very lovely. From the moment the case had begun, each one of them made an effort all throughout the trip to Missouri to make sure you were keeping up and doing okay. They’d even tried to get you to come over and chat with them when the flight started, but you lied and said you were tired.

Your head was leaning against the window, your eyes peering out to see nothing but blue skies and clouds. This was everything you’d ever wanted, so why did you feel the way you did?

A voice in the back of your head told you that your ex was right; you weren’t cut out for this. You were going to fail just like they always said you were going to – this was a mistake.

You couldn’t help but be on the verge of a breakdown with all the thoughts running through your head, but there was no way you could cry due to the presence of someone moving to sit in the seat in front of you. A part of you didn’t want to look up because you knew exactly who it was. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, but, reluctantly, you did look up only seconds later.

BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was sitting in front of you with his usual gaze that made you feel slightly intimidated. He seemed to be good at everything he did – or at least everything you had seen him do. He was well-respected, a damn good profiler, and so put-together that it made you feel like a mess in comparison.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked, attempting to mask the conflicted feelings in your voice.

He ignored your question. “You just finished your first case. I wanted to see how you were feeling. You and Reid really helped by figuring out the geographical profile.”

You should’ve known he would know. This was a plane full of profilers – they probably all knew.

“I’m good,” you lied with an attempted smile that never reached your eyes. “I’m glad we caught the guy; I’m just really exhausted.”

Aaron didn’t say anything as he obviously did not believe you with his eyes still watching you, presumably reading more about you in mere seconds than you even knew about yourself. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the chatter from the rest of the team filling the air.

“They’ve all been here for years,” he suddenly said. “It still affects them, but it gets easier.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you told him, your voice cracking in the middle of your sentence. You shut your eyes, cutting off eye contact. You didn’t want to look at your boss after you basically just told him you can’t do your own job.

This is so embarrassing, you thought to yourself.

When you finally re-opened your eyes, Aaron was still watching you. He moved forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the table between the two of you. He was looking at you with what you almost would’ve called sympathy.

“You can do this,” he reassured you, making sure his voice couldn’t be heard by the rest of the team. “You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t. It’ll get better.”

The sheer honesty in his voice caused unshed tears to form in your eyes. No one had given you the affirmation you so desperately needed in a long time – not even your ex, who often said more unkind things than kind.

“What if it doesn’t?” You asked, blinking hard to get rid of the tears that were threatening to fall.

“It will,” he said firmly, emphasizing his words. “Go home, rest, and come back for a new day tomorrow.” With that, he stood back up, straightened out the sleeves of his suit jacket, and looked at you one last time before walking back over to where he was originally sitting. “You did very well this week.”

Aaron said everything with so much sincerity that for the first time in a while, you felt a little bit better.

—

Two.

You didn’t end up quitting.

It had been a little over a month since you almost quit your job after the first week. Things still weren’t perfect, but you had gotten more used to being a profiler and had gotten to the point where going to work didn’t feel like such a chore.

You were now in a small North Dakota town on a case. It was the second week of December, and the heat was out at the inn you were staying at, which all of you had, unfortunately, found out when arriving back from the police department.

“I probably know the answer to this, but is there any way we could go somewhere else?” JJ asked as she stood by the door. “It’s freezing, Hotch.”

“Actually, in order for it to be freezing, it would need to be–”

“Reid, not now,” Derek cut him off.

Aaron looked up from the folder he was reading. “We can’t go anywhere else. This is the only place to stay in town, and it’s the only place that was approved and booked.”

“They said they will probably have it going again in under an hour. Maintenance is working on it now,” Rossi announced as he entered the room, stepping past JJ. “They apologized for the inconvenience.”

It was eleven at night, and everyone was in clothes they were sleeping in except for Aaron who still wore his suit, minus the tie and jacket. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in only his white dress shirt. The rooms at the inn were relatively tiny, but the team had all managed to cram into Aaron’s room, who got one to himself this time. They’d all flocked to his room in an attempt to figure out if staying somewhere else was possible, except for you, who had already been there.

You were sitting on the couch in the room next to Aaron as you attempted to help him figure out how this particular unsub was kidnapping his victims. The couch was particularly small, leaving no room between you and him. The entire side of your thigh was pressed against his, warmth radiating off of him despite the cold room.

Aaron sighed, laying down the folder and running a hand across his temple. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. Everyone, go back to bed. Hopefully the heat will be back on soon.”

“You coming?” Emily, your roommate for the duration of time you would be in North Dakota, asked as everyone filed out of the room.

You shook your head. “I’ll be there soon. I’m going to look over this one last time and see if there’s anything I missed.”

Emily told the both of you goodnight and left the room, leaving only you and Aaron still sitting together.

He made you very nervous. 

Aaron was older, extremely accomplished, more experienced in the job, and working with him alone was nerve-wracking. You’d proven yourself immensely in the short amount of time you had been a member of the BAU. Still – he was wonderful at everything. The idea of being wrong around him was terrifying.

As you continued to look through everything laid out in front of you, you couldn’t focus. It was so cold to the point where you couldn’t feel the tip of your nose anymore, and you were slightly shivering, crossing your arms in an attempt to warm up a little.

“Looks like I should’ve brought a winter coat to sleep in,” you attempted to joke.

The left corner of Aaron’s mouth tipped upward as he stood up and moved to the small closet. “It is pretty cold, isn’t it?”

Before you knew it, there was a brown blanket being draped across your shoulders.

It wasn’t very thick nor was it very comfortable. In fact, it felt a little scratchy to the touch as it brushed over your bare hands, but Aaron situated it until it was entirely wrapped around you while his body hovered over yours. You stopped breathing momentarily, your heart picking up its pace every time his hands scraped over your own arms. Even through your thick sweatshirt and the blanket, you could still feel his touch.

“Thanks,” you muttered. Your heart rate had gone back down to normal now that he was moving to sit again.

“I can’t have one of my agents going hypothermic,” he joked and gave you one of his rare smiles; the ones that were usually reserved for outside of work.

You weren’t blind – Aaron Hotchner was a gorgeous man, and you wouldn’t deny that just the scent of his very expensive cologne alone was enough to make you feel slightly dizzy.

However, that's all you thought. He was your boss, and you were dealing with a breakup that was still laying heavy on your heart and constantly consumed your thoughts.

But even after the heat started working only half an hour later, you didn’t remove the blanket and temporarily forgot about the person who broke your heart while you worked next to him.

—

Three.

It was six months into your job when you found yourself having one of the worst days ever.

You’d woken up late and to a text from a friend letting you know that the ex you’d been getting over for half a year was now social-media-official with the person they told you not to worry about, you spilled coffee all over your car and your white top resulting in you being even later for work as you had to go back to your apartment and change.

You were a stumbling mess when you finally made it to the conference room for the meeting that you were six minutes late for. All eyes were focused on you as you mumbled apologies and sat down while trying to listen to Aaron’s voice. It was some housekeeping things and maybe you should’ve listened, but your head was elsewhere.

The rest of the day did not go well either. Halfway through the day, you had managed to screw up the fax machine, trip over your own shoes, and give yourself not one but two paper cuts. All of it sounded like minor things – a paper cut shouldn’t have set you off so badly, but it really did.

By the end of the day, you wouldn’t have minded if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole. Once you did one more thing, you would finally be able to go home.

“Come in.”

Aaron’s office was a place that you had grown to not fear so much. In the beginning of your job, every time you had to go in, it almost felt like you were in middle school walking into the principal’s office as he sat there at his desk with a stoic stare and hardly any emotion in his voice.

“I got your email about needing to speak with me,” you told him, coming inside and shutting the door behind you. “What did you need?”

He looked up at you as you moved closer to his desk. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

You frowned. “I thought you said in the email that you needed to speak with me about something important?”

Aaron nodded as if it was no big deal. “You’ve been acting off all day. How you feel is an important thing – even if you think it isn’t. So, are you okay?”

Your heart broke at his kindness. He was always nice to you, maybe nicer than he should’ve been, but calling you into his office just to make sure you were okay after a bad day made you wonder why no one else had ever cared about your feelings like this.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “It’s just been a terrible day.”

Still sitting at his desk with his full attention on you, Aaron asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You wouldn't lie – you did think about his proposal for a moment. There weren't many people for you to talk to. You had friends, but not many in Quantico other than your co-workers. You’d moved alone without knowing anyone, and you worked so much that there was rarely time for you to go out and meet new people.

But Aaron was a busy man. He was probably just offering to be polite – there was no way he cared that much to hear about your miniscule problems when his job was as hectic and busy as it was.

“No, Hotch, I don’t want to keep you here any longer–”

He cut you off. “I’m already here; it doesn’t matter. You can talk to me. I’ve been rather concerned about you.”

At that moment, you couldn’t come up with an excuse as to why the idea of him thinking about you was enough to make your heart flutter.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” you started, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “I had a bad breakup right before I moved to Quantico. My ex didn't really care when I went to the Academy, but they exploded when I told them how I finally got this job. It was constant fighting before they gave me an ultimatum: them or taking the job.”

“And you chose the job?”

You laughed, feeling a little pathetic. “No, at first, I didn’t. They really got it stuck in my head that I wasn’t good enough to do this. I was going to turn it down and stay, but I changed my mind last minute. I found out this morning they’re now with someone else. Then, I was late, I fucked up the fax machine, and I got a couple paper cuts. It’s nothing, really – it was just a bad day.”

Aaron moved around in his seat, leaning back a little and crossing his arms. “It isn’t nothing if it bothers you.”

“I didn’t know you were a therapist,” you tried to joke, squirming awkwardly in your seat. You were already feeling vulnerable and the way he was looking at you wasn’t helping.

“Only part-time,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone – someone may think I have emotions.”

His face was completely stoic when he said it, but as soon as you started to laugh, he joined in.

“Really, though, I’m okay – just exhausted. I think the universe just hates me right now.” You stood up to leave. “I want to beat the rush hour traffic, so I should head out, but thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and you were on your way out while thinking the interaction was over, when he called out your name.

You stopped, hand still grasping the door you were about to open. “Yeah?”

“It’s their loss.”

A frown appeared on your face. “What do you mean?”

“Your ex,” he explained. “You shouldn’t lose sleep over someone who doesn’t know how lovely you are.”

Lovely.

You’d been called a lot of things in your life, probably even some adjectives better than lovely, but the way it just rolled out of Aaron’s mouth as if it was a casual, every-day-like occurrence made you feel warm.

Aaron Hotchner thought you were lovely and knowing that kept a smile on your face for days after while the wounds that had been given to you by someone else slowly healed.

—

Four.

After a year of working with the BAU, you ended up with your first unsub-related injury.

You thought going to the hospital was pointless because you truly felt fine, but both Derek and JJ argued relentlessly for you to go due to the nasty gash on your head. Unfortunately, you were outnumbered and sent to the hospital for an evaluation after the unsub you were after thought it was okay to slam you on the ground a little too hard, resulting in a blow to your head when you went down and hit the concrete.

JJ rode with you to the hospital in the ambulance that you, very much, did not think was necessary. After seeing a doctor, it was determined that you had a concussion. With a thick bandage on your wound and a drive home from JJ who gave you strict rules on taking care of yourself while you healed like the mother she was, you were finally alone in the comfort of your apartment after a long day spent in Manassas – the location of the latest case.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, you were starting to feel the symptoms and the sound of knocking on your door felt like nails being drilled into your head.

However, the person standing on the other side when you opened the door made your head spin faster than the concussion did.

Aaron was standing on the other side of the door, one hand holding a brown paper bag with a look of worry on his face. He was dressed casually in a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans, nose slightly red from where he had walked through the cold November air to get inside your apartment building.

In other words, he looked very good. It was hard to not grab and kiss him.

You’d developed somewhat of an attraction for your boss since that fateful day in his office. Not that you hadn’t been attracted to him before, but it now felt more like a serious affection and not some small crush – the first time you felt this way about anyone in a long time.

“Hi,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another upon seeing you. “How are you?” He paused after his eyes glanced at the very obvious bandage on your forehead. “Wait, I don’t think that’s an appropriate question right now. I’m sorry.”

You giggled despite the throbbing in your temple, moving to let him into your apartment. “I’m as good as I can be right now. Come on in.”

He walked into your apartment, following you into the kitchen after you shut the door and locked it. Aaron had only been to your apartment once after giving you a ride home from work, but this was the first time he’d ever been inside.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He asked while you got a glass of water.

You nodded slightly, careful to cause any more pain. “Probably, but I can’t get any rest until my medicine kicks in and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to bust.”

Aaron winced. “I tried to come to the hospital, but JJ had already taken you home by the time I got there, so I came here. I apologize for coming unannounced and so late, but I had to make sure you were okay.”

“You do that a lot,” you told him, leaning against one of the counters in the kitchen. “Making sure I’m okay.”

“I happen to care about you a lot.”

Hiding your smile behind the glass of water, you took a sip before focusing your attention back on the bag he brought with him. “What’s in the bag?”

It seemed as though he had forgotten he was still holding something. He raised it up and held it out to you, an almost-shy look dancing across his face that you’d never seen before on him. “I, um, made a stop at the store for you on my way over. It’s just over-the-counter medicine, extra bandages, and a couple snacks that I know you like. I figured it might help you out since you can’t drive for the next two days.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on your face. It was almost as if every time you thought Aaron couldn’t get any more perfect, he would prove you wrong.

He continued as he sat the bag down on the counter next to you. “I also wanted to tell you that Strauss said take all the time you need to recover.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “She did?”

There was only silence between the two of you as you looked at each other until he shrugged. “Well, I told her that you’re going to be taking all the time off that you need, and she didn’t really say anything so take all the time you need.”

“It’s just a concussion,” you told him. “I’ll be back to work soon.”

“A concussion is a serious thing,” Aaron said with a frown, not liking the way you brushed the injury off as nothing. “I’m glad you’re okay. Morgan said you hit the ground pretty hard before he cuffed the guy.”

You took another sip of your water before sitting it down. “I’m alive and well – Derek was just worried.”

As much as you were enjoying the feeling of talking with Aaron in your kitchen, the heaviness you felt in your eyes reminded you that it was nearly midnight, and you’d had a long day. The yawn that escaped your mouth didn’t go unnoticed.

“I should go and let you get some rest.”

You really didn’t want him to go. There weren't many other opportunities where you would get Aaron in your apartment like this. It felt oddly domestic, and you hated the fact that you loved it so much. But he was right – you did need the rest.

“Thank you again for stopping by,” you told him as the two of you walked the short distance back to the front door. “And for all the stuff you bought. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said, his hand lingering on the door knob. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

He was opening the door before you called out, “Wait,” your mind flooded with déjà vu from the time he stopped you on your way out of his office.

Aaron paused and turned to look back at you. His body hadn’t left the room yet, but the door was slightly ajar where he opened it. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you walked over to him and threw your arms around his broad torso engulfed in the softest sweatshirt you’d ever felt.

“Thank you,” you softly said. “Not just for tonight, but for, well, just caring about me.”

He didn’t waste a second reciprocating the hug as he wrapped his arms around you even tighter, careful not to get near the bandage on your forehead and further hurt you. He was like a human heater – warm, tall, and you fit perfectly against him.

One hug from Aaron was like a band-aid healing any problem you had – even the external ones. Maybe this was what the placebo effect felt like and if this was it, you wanted it over and over again.

“Of course,” he muttered, arms still locked around you as if he needed this more than you did.

When you finally parted, his cheeks were dusted with a slight red shade as he wore one of his grins that you’d grown to love and receive more often. “Goodnight.”

Even though you had a raging headache and a painful cut on your temple, it had nothing on the big smile you kept on your face even as you drifted off into sleep that night still feeling warm and giddy.

—

Five.

It had been almost two months since you hugged Aaron in your apartment.

Since that night, something changed in the relationship between the two of you. You couldn’t really place your finger on what had changed, but there was a shift. Tension was thick – not in a bad way but in a way where you wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him to you any time you were alone.

You also had the feeling that he felt the same way. Aaron had been a profiler for many more years than you had been, but you liked to think you were good at your job. You could read him and from the way his eyes watched you, you could tell he was feeling the same tension in the air.

It was New Year’s Eve, and David Rossi had, after a lot of pleading from Penelope, agreed to host a small get-together for the team plus family including Will, Henry, and Jack – the latter two were currently running around the, very expensive, house, which was driving Dave insane as kept watch to make sure nothing got damaged due to the kids.

You were standing outside in the backyard, the late-December air hitting your face as you glanced down at your phone that told you it was almost midnight.

When you thought back to who you were around this time last year –  a woman in a new city with a demanding job and hardly any friends, still crying yourself to sleep over someone who didn’t deserve your tears – it made you want to smile.

It had been a little over a year since you started working at the BAU and as you glanced inside through the large glass doors, you felt like you belonged. There was no more doubt, no more tears, and no more days where you wanted to run away.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll freeze to death.” You turned around to find Aaron closing one of the glass doors and moving towards you.

He was wearing a black quarter zip and jeans – a casual outfit but one of your favorites. For reasons that you couldn’t understand, Aaron Hotchner in a quarter zip made you feel things.

“I came out here because it’s cold,” you told Aaron, leaning against a railing and crossing your sweater-covered arms. “It’s so hot and stuffy in there. It’s like Rossi is trying to burn us all alive.”

Aaron laughed and walked over next to you. He leaned against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. “He does keep his house pretty hot.”

“Is Jack having a good time?”

Jack Hotchner was probably your favorite kid you’d ever met. He was a total sweetheart, and you instantly got along with him from the first day you met him.

You didn’t miss the way Aaron’s face lit up a little as you mentioned his son. “Yes, I think so. He’s a big fan of celebrating the New Year because he gets to stay up late.” You then watched his face fall a bit. “He’s been missing his mom a lot lately, so coming here tonight – it’s good for him.”

You knew of Aaron’s ex-wife who had died before you joined the team, and you knew the terrible way that it happened. You’d also heard that it greatly affected Jack and Aaron, even though he hid it more than he should’ve.

“It must be hard on him, but I’m glad he’s having a good time tonight.”

Aaron smiled. “He loves the team, but I think you’re his favorite.”

You grinned. “No way! I’m honored.”

A comfortable silence grew between the two of you with no sounds other than distinct chatter and laughs from inside of the house. You glanced over to Aaron who was pulling out his phone.

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said. “You want to head back inside and watch the ball drop?”

You almost said yes at first because you actually did want to see the ball drop, but you also wanted a moment alone with Aaron considering you rarely got them in a setting outside of work. Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t care – a few more minutes with him wouldn’t hurt. “I think I’m going to stay out here.”

He didn’t say anything. Aaron kept his phone out so the two of you could keep an eye on the clock app, its tiny, orange hand moving around the twelve, now signalizing that it was eleven fifty-nine.

Your eyes kept watch on the clock as it got closer to passing twelve again. You were starting to get nervous. A part of you expected Aaron to go inside after you told him you weren’t going back in – it wasn’t like he was obligated to stay out in the cold with you.

However, he never went back inside and as the clock kept getting closer to midnight, only seconds away now, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were: the traditional New Year’s kiss.

You discretely searched for any sign on his face that gave away if he was going to kiss you or not. You so desperately wanted it but if he wasn’t thinking the same thing, there was no way you were going to embarrass yourself by trying to kiss him.

Ten.

Still no sign – you were starting to panic a little.

Nine.

What were you supposed to do?

Eight.

Would he rather have a handshake? He did have a pretty firm grip.

Seven.

No, screw a handshake. Who gives someone a handshake at midnight on New Year’s?

Six.

He put down his phone and was starting to turn toward you.

Five.

Was he actually going to kiss you?

Four.

“Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but can I kiss you?”

Three.

You couldn’t form words, only a nod, eyes slightly widened.

Two.

He was moving his hand up to your cheek and, oh dear, this was actually going to happen.

One.

Aaron’s lips were warm against yours, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever been kissed with so much delicacy. He was gentle and respectful. Your hands pressed against his chest before you finally moved them up to the nape of his neck under the collar of the quarter zip you loved so much, pulling him even closer to you.

You felt secure and safe pressed up tightly against him with one hand of his cupping your jaw as the other rested firmly on your lower back. Your mouth was opening up before you could even stop it. Aaron smiled against your lips as he felt it before he deepened the kiss.

 This time, he was kissing you much more firmly and with the feeling of his tongue moving against yours, you couldn’t remember the last time, or if ever, you felt the way you did. His hand pressed even harder against your back, making you inhale sharply during the kiss.

There was a time in your life when you thought you would never find someone else – that maybe you were destined to be alone all because of one person who didn’t see your worth, but Aaron made all the pain go away to the point where you hadn’t thought of the person who hurt you in months.

Aaron made you feel like you were floating all the time. He reminded you of your worth instead of breaking you down. He was a man who did both the small things like throwing a blanket around your cold body and the big things like bringing you snacks and medicine after a hit to the head – the definition of “if he wanted to, he would” in the best way possible.

“Hey! You guys missed the – holy shit!”

You flung yourself off Aaron and looked behind him to see Emily standing there, her mouth wide open. You’d never seen her utterly speechless like she was at the moment. She opened and closed her mouth for a moment, glancing back and forth between the two of you before she finally found something to say.

 “Morgan and Reid owe me fifty bucks.”

—

(+) One.

It was three months into Aaron Hotchner’s relationship with you when he knew with absolute certainty that he loved you.

His job was difficult, and today was no different but instead of shaking it off before going home, he couldn’t help but feel a cloud of emotion follow him all the way back home to his apartment.

He knew that you were waiting on him because the two of you were supposed to have dinner. You’d gotten to leave at a reasonable time and not, he glanced down at his watch, at nine at night. Aaron had a lot of duties and responsibilities as Unit Chief, but he sometimes wished he didn’t in order to come home at a normal hour.

Aaron saw you sitting on his couch as soon as he unlocked and opened his front door. You smiled sweetly as you looked over at him, no trace of frustration or anger at how late he was getting home.

“Everything go okay with those reports? I know Strauss was giving you a hard time,” You said as you glanced back down at your phone you were holding. When he didn’t answer, he saw you look back up at him again but this time with a frown on your face.

He knew the look he had on his face was giving him away, but he just couldn’t force himself to not feel the way that he was feeling.

You put your phone down on the coffee table and stood up to move in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“That’s usually my line to you,” he attempted a joke, but it never reached his eyes.

You responded with a half-smile. “Bad evening?”

Aaron nodded, not saying anything further. You moved closer as you wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, honey,” he said, instantly feeling a little better just from your touch. “I missed dinner. I’m not the one who should be upset.”

You pulled back and rested both hands on each side of his face as he kept his situated on your waist. “Someone told me once that how you feel is an important thing even if you think it isn’t.”

He chuckled a bit. “Using my own words against me, huh?”

You cracked a smile. “It’s okay that you missed dinner. I know you had a rough and busy evening. Don’t worry about me. We can have dinner another night – it’s not a big deal that you couldn’t make it.”

You were looking at him so sincerely and touching him with so much care that he couldn’t help but pull you back in again, eyes closing at the feeling of another hug from you.

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled to him. “You look like you could go for an early night.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what he did to deserve someone as good as you – someone who cared for him even on days when he didn’t care for himself. You were kind, understanding, and patient. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe he was lucky enough to be with someone like you.

So while he wasn’t sure of how deserving he really was, he was one hundred percent sure of the fact that he loved you and your lovely self.

[longing-for-rain]

Ember Island Players…Racist Caricatures or Meta Commentary?

This episode was supposed to be a fun filler episode to recap the events of the show in a silly way before the series finale, but it’s managed to become arguably one of the most controversial episodes in the fandom. Over the years, Aang’s possessive behavior towards Katara has been rightfully criticized, but there are always people who attempt to justify everything Aang does.

Apparently, the latest iteration of this is the claim that—wait for it—we should be sympathetic towards Aang and give him a pass in The Ember Island Players because he felt “emasculated” due to the supposed “feminization” of his culture.

I’ve been called racist for saying this is a reach, but it’s more than a reach. It’s an entire acrobatics routine; a level of media illiteracy that shows a lack of understanding of the point of that episode.

Yes, Aang’s character is portrayed in a silly, mocking way. So are all of the other characters. That’s the point; the episode was a filler, a gimmick, and the underlying comedy is the fact that all of the characters are reacting to exaggerated, one-dimensional versions of their own personalities.

For example:

Katara is portrayed as an “overemotional crybaby” in her own words, and is constantly giving motivational speeches and crying

Sokka’s “comedic relief” archetype is played up to the point his lines are just corny one-liners

Zuko is portrayed as an angsty, whiny pretty-boy who acts like a bratty asshole at all times

Toph is a huge buff guy (although in this case, it’s a play on how her character was originally going to be a “jock” type male character)

As for Aang? He’s portrayed as unserious, goofy, and childish. Which—just like all the others—is a jokey exaggeration of his childish demeanor and nature. He’s not even alone in taking offense to his portrayal. All of the characters aside from Toph hate their characters for largely the same reason. They’re being confronted with aspects of themselves that make them insecure. For Aang, it’s his immaturity—and specifically his fears that he’ll be rejected by Katara.

As for why Aang is played by a woman? Well, we don’t actually have to wonder about that, because the creators themselves answer this question in the episode commentary.

Bryan: “It's sort of a self-referential joke. Whenever you do a animated show, they usually want to cast, uh, women...who are, like, in their thirties to play boys, because you never know how long the show is gonna go on, and, you know, as Jack mentioned earlier, boys' voices start cracking.” (source)

Wow, imagine that! An inside joke about the cartoon industry in a show’s meta-episode dedicated to making fun of itself? Impossible!

I’m serious though. The episode transcript is right here. Point me to where exactly there is even the slightest hint of anyone bringing up Aang’s culture and tying his childish behavior to it.

That’s right; it isn’t there. Because that wasn’t the point. Aang’s anger did stem from feeling emasculated, but it had nothing to do with culture and everything to do with his own misogynistic attitudes. He was offended at his portrayal on an individual level. I’m not denying that the issue of oppressive nations using femininity as an insult against men of colonized nations is a very real issue, but that was never a theme present in this episode. We don’t see Aang expressing anger towards the Fire Nation, nor do we see him mention anything about culture. What we see is Aang, individually, feeling insulting that his actor is female and Aang being angry at Katara, individually, because the play suggested she felt more attracted to Zuko than him.

Trying to downplay Aang’s behavior and suggest we coddle him despite his atrocious treatment of Katara is a disingenuous reading of the episode.

Why are you reaching to make an excuse for Aang when if you’re really taking the “the point of the episode is that the play is racially demeaning the characters” angle…and why are you not bringing up Sokka? He’s portrayed as a dumb oaf who is always talking about eating meat. There is a much stronger argument to be made there about caricatures, but Sokka isn’t threatening anyone’s ship so apparently nobody cares.

And while we’re talking about caricatures, how about this crap?

Sorry, Aang stans, but this show and Aang’s character aren’t the enlightened portrayals of anti-colonialism and groundbreaking activism you think they are. It’s pretty clear from the context and the episode itself what the intention here was. It is poorly aged comedy from the early 2000s written by white Americans. And we will continue to critique that, thanks.